Duncan Can't Take It
by sKetchdiva
Summary: Without Courtney, Duncan's life is a boring, black-hole of boredom and disappointment. But what if she came back? Sure, they didn't leave off on a good note, but what if they were to repair their relationship secretly on the set of Total Drama Action?
1. Ocean's Fate, or Whine

**Hello, fellow FanFictionites! sKetchdiva here, bringing you an all new version of Duncan Gets Desperate! Only much...much cooler. I DO NOT own TDA, any TDA characters or plots!! Just the way I have Duncan thinking about all the crap that goes on at the film lot!**

**Enjoy, minions!**

**PEACE**

*** * ***

**Ocean's Fate - or Whine**

When she first stepped off the boat, I knew she was the girl for me. I mean, at first glance, she seemed like a snotty, uptight chick who considered organizing her sock drawer fun. But after a double-take, my heart exploded. I'd never felt like this in my life.

She grabbed the host's hand, and he helped her onto the dock. "Thank you," she said politely with a social smile. She waved to the other contestants, but it felt like she and me were the only people on the island. I'd never believed in love-at-first-sight, until I saw her. She was the first to run over and check on the crazy girl after she did a chin-bash, sounding utterly concerned. No one else jumped up to help. She was also the first to try and comfort the fat twin after the she and her skinny clone were split onto different teams. She seemed so...perfect.

I hung around her, lurking in the shadows. She never caught me staring at her hair, her eyes, her legs, her face. I hid in the trees as she walked by, jumping behind her cabin as she trumped up the steps. I didn't know what was wrong with me, since I'd had a heart of stone and ice before I arrived. I ended up telling myself later that day that she wasn't my type, anyway, and she probly didn't want to have anything to do with a criminal like me.

So I basically gave up, though I hadn't even talked to her. I made snide comments, rude remarks, sexual, badass gestures. She seemed repulsed by my behavior, like I thought she'd act upon actually meeting me. But I couldn't help but wonder what things would be like if I'd been nice. She treated me like a Neanderthal because I was _acting _like one. Who knows? Maybe she would've treated me like a decent, respectable person if I'd acted like one. Too late.

But, to my surprise, she didn't really hate the way I behaved around her, because after I'd been sentenced to solitary confinement for pissing off the camp's cook, Chef Hatchet, she'd brought me dinner from the mess hall.

She and I snuck into Chef's kitchen not long after, filling a sack with decent food from his fridge. We hauled it all back to the other campers, pigging out. She'd run outside around forty-five minutes later, so I walked out to check on her. She'd gotten sick from being excited and eating too much, but besides that, I think that night'd been the best night of my life. Know why? 'Cause she kissed me.

Feeling her lips against mine for the first time ever shocked me for a split second. But then all became right and I felt as though we were one.

...Jeez. I sound all sappy and cheezy.

* * *

It had been as normal as things could get around here at Total Drama Action. Aka, a living hell. At breakfast, Heather had called me a vandal as I carved my initials into the table in the mess hall. While I had my hand on my cheek propping my head up, I barely acknowledged her calling Harold a nerd. I would've laughed and snickered a "damn right", but I was too depressed. I thought I could get by, with Courtney gone. Apparently I can't. I mean, it's not exactly like things had left off on a good note.

I just didn't get it. Back at Camp Wawanakwa, we'd grown to really adore each other. Then when Chris announced at the reunion that Princess wouldn't be coming along for the TDA ride, everything fell apart. She and I had tried to keep our relationship intact. The first day I got here, I was lonely. I paced around wishing she was here with me, but had no way of contacting her, since Chris wouldn't let me near a phone. He'd actually taken all our cells away when we arrived.

* * *

I spent the next week or so sulking, till I got to know Gwen a little better. She'd chosen me first to be on her team, and that made me feel appreciated. Also, I was the second-in-command guy, meaning that if she went, it'd be _my_ team. We hung around, pointing out our badass similarities and really getting along. I kinda think of her as my sister. She's a lot like my little sister, actually.

We got really close, best buds, if you'd like to think of it that way. I didn't have any guy friends anymore, what with DJ being too big of a wuss and Geoff going all girl-nuts about Bridgette. Besides, they weren't around anymore.

One time a few weeks ago, Gwen and I had walked out to this bridge over a stream we'd stumbled across after dismantling Chef's bus. It was about eight o'clock, and we both leaned over the edge, staring up at the sky.

"Is it just me," Gwen had said, pointing up at the stars, "or does that constellation look like Harold's pancake butt? With the spaghetti legs attached? See?"

I wasn't really listening. My Courtney thoughts had just about driven me to insanity that day, so I just let myself think about her freely (something I usually tried to avoid doing). I rested my chin in my hand and put an elbow on the bridge railing. I had a goofy smile spread across my face, lost in a Princess memory.

Gwen scoffed next to me, hands on her hips. "Ugh! I just gave you the _perfect _setup for a dig, and you leave me _hanging?_" Then she smirked teasingly and said, "What's yer damage?"

"You think Courtney might be looking at the stars now?" I blurted out, unaware I'd really spoken. I just spewed out what had been on my mind.

Gwen made a mock-gagging noise, making fun of me, I guess.

I didn't really care. That's what buddies do, they joke around. I just kept gazing up, swearing I saw a constellation that looked like Princess.

Gwen looked at me, surprised by what a love-sick puppy I was acting like. She laughed. "Wow. Who knew you were such a sucker for the A-type?" When I didn't respond, she grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand out from underneath my chin to get my attention.

I blinked, coming back to reality. I smirked and said, "Oh, you wanna make something of it?" jokingly, and faux-punched her in the arm.

She scoffed again, saying. "Ah, you can do better than that!"

So we started to wrestle. Something I really liked about Gwen was, was that she wasn't all froo-froo and girlie. I mean, Court would never wanna wrestle. We grunted and laughed as we tried to pin one another to the ground, and I ended up landing on top of Gwen.

"Oooh," I said triumphantly, having her trapped under me. Then I realized what'd just happened, and I frowned, scrambling to my feet.

She looked shocked for a second, but shook it off when I helped her up.

I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably and glanced away, feeling awkward. "Uh...sorry...about that."

She shrugged quickly. "Yeah, okay. Fine."

I felt like I'd just screwed things up, so I offered to run back to the trailers and collect everyone's underwear to string up the flag pole. That seemed to clear up the weirdness, and we went back to being normal. I'd never considered hooking up with Gwen, honestly. Courtney would always be the girl for me. Period. End of story. Bye-bye. See ya later.

So, turns out, that during Geoff and Bridgette's sucky Aftermath show, Geoff'd played Courtney a tape of me and Gwen wrestling. She'd gotten a hold of Chris later that night, demanding him to let her talk to me, or she'd sue. Of course, Chris complied, and I got an earful of Princess heartlessly breaking up with me. "How could you do this?!" and "I can't believe you!" was yelled a lot. I didn't really say anything. I just frowned as she talked, mumbling, "Okay. I get it. I'm sorry," at the end of her rant.

* * *

Now, three weeks later, I sat at the lunch table with the H-bombs, and Big Loud and Proud. Hooray for me, right? I can't believe I actually have to lead these losers.

"We have to all stop acting like babies, or _every _one of us is goin' home," LeShawna was saying. I narrowed my eyes at her. Like I was acting like a baby.

"C'mon, you guys," Heather said. I chuckled mentally at her bald head. Ha. I'll always love Lindsay for that. "What LeShawna did was for the best. Nobody needs a day at the spa like she does. In fact, you could write a tell-all book about her hairdo called _Weave Got Problems._"

"Nobody's gonna argue with her?" LeShawna demanded.

"Sounds like an entertaining read," Harold mumbled, crossing his arms over his boney chest.

LeShawna glowered and said, "I'm going back to the trailer." She stood with her fists clenched, stomping out of the mess hall.

"Try not to let the door hit your butt on the way out," I called after her. After what she did a few episodes ago, she should be glad I'm even talking to her. I can't believe she blubbered like that just to get us to feel sorry for her and let her have the reward. What a brat. And I thought my Princess was bratty. _Dammit, Duncan! _I thought. _Don't think about her! _I gnawed on my cheek.

_"Door?" _Heather snapped. "It's a _tent, _Idiot Boy."

I glared. "Uh, it's a figure of speech."

"What you should've said," Harold wheezed, "was, 'Don't let the flap flutter–'"

"Shut up, Harold," Heather and I both barked at the same time.

The eggs and bacon Chef'd made actually looked good, so I decided to take the risk and shovel it down, since I was _starving. _I absentmindedly listened to the Grips as I chewed, only half paying attention. They were babbling about being glad to still be in the game, wired jaws, normal people... Then Owen jumped up and said, "Sorry, y'guys. But there's a great smell comin' from Chef's steam table and seconds are'a wastin'!" He did a handstand on the table he was sitting at with his team and flew through the air, right through the cut-out window to the kitchen.

I stared at him, surprised. The guy can really move.

Out of nowhere, we all heard fabric ripping apart, and glanced up to see Chris McLean cutting a huge square out of the top of the tent. A rope dropped through, and he coolly slid down it, landing firmly on the ground.

"What an entrance!" Beth shouted cheerfully. Pffft. What's to be happy about?

"Consider it a hint as to this week's movie genre," he said, pointing around the room, his other hand still grasping the rope.

"Is it lame-o, rock-climbing, wannabe host movies?" I asked jerkishly, arms folded.

"N-n-nooo," he replied stubbornly. "This week, we're paying tribute to the action-packed, bank heist, gangster caper film!" Oh, happy day.

"Uh, Chris?" Justin raised a finger. "Our team is missing a player."

"So is ours," Heather said before I could. "But we don't care." I shook my head in agreement. Nope. Definitely don't.

"Owen and LeShawna are gone, people," Chris said seriously. "Because, rescuing them is the first part of your challenge!"

Beth, Lindsay, and Justin gasped, God knows why.

I yawned along with them. "Oh, pardon me." Seriously, rescuing LeShawna? Ain't gonna happen, man.

"They've both been locked up in state-of-the-art safes," he explained unnecessarily. "Along with all the tools each team will need to commit a movie-perfect bank robbery." He rubbed his hands together maliciously, probly day-dreaming this whole thing out in his head. "Yer job, is to crack the safes, rescue your teammates, grab the equipment, and try to be the first ones to rob the First National Bank of Chris." He gripped the rope again, winking at us all. "Let's kick it, gangstas!" Then someone from above pulled him up, and he slipped through the opening he'd made.

"Is he serious?" I barked.

Heather glanced at me and said, "I'm not rescuing LeShawna."

I nodded. "Me either." The Grips had already run outside to try and find the safes.

"Then it's settled," Heather said, standing and resting her hands on the table. "Finally, we're agreeing on something."

"But wait," Harold protested. "Chris said that there's suitable equipment to rob a bank in LeShawna's containment unit. We have to retrieve them, meaning her, too."

I rolled my eyes, Heather sitting back down. "Oh, please. You don't care about the weapons and crap – you just wanna save yer precious LeShawna."

Heather smiled evilly and cocked a brow at him. _"Yeah. _That's totally it._"_

Harold blushed, but quickly controlled it. "Nuh-uh! She's a traitor! But we need the equipment in order to win the challenge. Are you two really willing to throw away our chance at winning just because you're upset at LeShawna?"

Heather and I exchanged quick, blank glances. "Sure are," she chirped, me saying, "Yep."

"Fine." He huffed and stood, nerdily storming out the tent, tripping a couple times.

I stared after him for a minute, frowning. Heather did, too. "Eh, maybe we should go," I mumbled, standing stiffly.

She hesitated, but followed anyway. "I guess."

We walked side-by-side, alone, to set thirteen. It was easy finding where to go though Chris didn't tell us crap about how to get there – duh, the challenges always happened in the sets, and I'm pretty sure we're doing episode thirteen right now. Lucky Thirteen. Whoo.

"So..." Heather's eyes were timidly downcast as she rubbed the inside of her left elbow with her right hand. "...do you miss Courtney?"

My eye twitched, and I had to force myself not to growl. Why'd she have to bring her up? I cleared my throat. "Uh...well, yeah. A lot."

"Really?" She glanced at me with a small smile. It wasn't teasing or anything. It was sincere, which shocked the hell outta me.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I wish she were here." It felt weird opening up to a chick who wasn't Princess. I mean, I'd _never_ opened up to anyone beside Court. At the same time it felt good, too. I felt like a small amount of weight had been lifted from my shoulders, getting my feelings off my chest. Nothing's interesting without Courtney here. Everything's boring as hell, pointless, idiotic. And if she _were_ here, I know she'd speak all our thoughts and bitch at Chris during his lameass explanations. I smiled as I walked. Yeah, she'd totally do that.

"You know, you could always give her a shout-out once the cameras are rolling," Heather told me quietly.

I tiled my head to one side, brows raised. "Huh." I hadn't even thought of that. But wouldn't it seem kinda desperate? Calling out to a chick who'd dumped me and clearly wasn't taking me back? "I dunno, though. Court's not one to forgive easily. Man, I don't even know what I did."

"It's Weird Goth Girl." Heather wrinkled her nose and scowled. "She manages to screw everything up."

"Hey," I boomed defensively. "You don't know anything about her. Knock of the 'tude."

"W-w-whooa," she dragged out, rolling her eyes. "Oh-kaaay."

* * *

We finally got to the set, and Harold was outside with his ear pressed against the safe. He was turning the dial slowly, concentrating.

I went over and kicked the metal, which made a _clang _ringing sound that hopefully hurt his ear.

"Dang!" he shouted, cupping his hands over his ears. Then he glanced at me and Heather, giving us a dirty look. "Whaddo you guys want?"

"We wanna win," I snapped. "So move." I pushed him out of the way and tried messing with the dial. I am, after all, an experienced criminal.

"Yer doing it all wrong," Heather yelled, shoving on me to move. She got in front of the knob and starting spinning it the same way I had.

"Hello?" LeShawna called shakily from inside.

"We're here, LeShawna!" Harold shouted back excitedly.

Heather and I rolled our eyes at him.

"Ugh, it smells rank in here," LeShawna said through the door.

"I'll get you out!" Harold shooed Heather away, leaning with the side of his head against the door again, slowly turning the knob. He was obviously getting us nowhere after ten minutes of doing that.

"Let _me _do it," Heather hissed with her hands on her hips.

"Were _you _the captain of Picky Steve's Lock-Picking Camp?" he wheezed. "Huh? _No._"

She slapped his hand off the dial, and he stared at her, offended. She pursed her lips, listening to the cogs inside the door while she messed with it.

Then he whacked her hand back, and they started in with this big, dorky, smacking drama-fest.

Well...okay. I put my hands in my pockets and turned around, heading for the confessional. I didn't necessarily feel like standing outside in the sun while they fought, and I wasn't in the mood to act all captainy and take over. I sat down in the pink salon chair they always had set up by the counter in the confessional, flipped the camera on, and started complaining. "The H-bombs – Harold and Heather – are so busy trying to figure out who's the world's biggest dweeb, that they _totally _forgot I'm an _experienced_ _criminal._" I pouted fakely. "Frankly...it was a little insulting." I leaned in to shut the camera off, but decided to do one more thing, first. "Okay, if you guys show this next part on air, I'll kill you." Jabbing a finger at the lens, I threatened, "I know where you are, Bill. I could easily kill you, too, Chris. Anyways..." I drummed my fingers on the counter. "...could you tell Courtney that I miss her? Tell her I'm sorry." _Then _I reached over and turned off the camcorder. With a sigh, I stood and left.

* * *

To my slight disappointment, Heather and Harold were still beating on each other when I got back to the safe. I think they hadn't even noticed I'd left. I had my back against the door, arms crossed, glaring. She had him in a headlock, then he hooked her lip with his finger, and they tumbled over.

I almost laughed. This is too funny. I glanced over and saw Justin, Beth and Lindsay trying to open their safe.

"Do you think it's like cracking an egg?" Lindsay asked Justin.

I shook my head. I might like her for what she did to Heather, but she's still dumb as hell.

"My boyfriend has a bad habit of cracking his knuckles..." Beth blabbed. "Some people say it's gross, I think it's kinda adorable!"

Rolling my eyes, I looked back at the H-bombs.

They had actually stopped squabbling, and now Harold had a cup to the door, listening through it. I never got how that cup thing worked... He was all scraped up, a couple bandages on his sickly face. His shirt was ripped in several places, too. I gotta hand it to Heather, she can fight.

She tapped her foot impatiently next to him, glowering.

"I need concentration and quiet!" Harold wailed. "The numbers aren't talking to me."

"Maybe they don't speak _moron!_" Heather shoved him hard, and resumed trying to open the stupid, useless safe her way. It was amusing to watch them fight. Very, very amusing. Heather breathed out, frustrated, and stood from her crouched position sharply. "The obvious way to do this..." She gestured to the door. "...is to think of combinations Chris would've come up with." She smiled and put her fingers up. "What is his favorite thing in the whole world?"

Duh. "Chris," I said bleakly with a shrug.

"Exactly! His birthday." She bent and scrolled in his birthday, which I was surprised she knew. She entered it and yanked on the big wheel, trying to get it to turn.

Harold ran up and went, "EEEEEEH!" like a game show buzzer when it didn't work.

"Okay, then," she said, putting in a different combo. "His measurements."

That didn't work, either, so Harold did another "EEEEEEH!"

She bumped him back with her hip and thought for a moment, a hand on her chin. "The...bar code number on his favorite hair gel?"

"EEEEEEH!"

"STOP doing that," she shrieked, spinning to face Harold.

Fifteen feet away, Lindsay and Beth were actually jumping on their vault wheel...handle...thing to try and break it off.

"A _bobby pin?_" Harold said incredulously when Heather started picking at the lock with a girlie hair accessory. Like Heather could _use _hair accessories.

"It _worked _on my sisters' diaries!" she grumbled.

"Yer pathetic!"

"Yer patherticER!"

"You're BOTH losers," I said, chillaxing against the wall.

All of a sudden, the three of us heard clashing and banging, then Owen crashed his way out of his vault, tearing out the heavy, metal door and flinging it across the lot. Heather, Harold and I gaped. He rubbed his eyes and said, "Chicken?"

"Check it out." I jerked my chin at him. "It's the Incredible Bulk."

Then the Grips ran by with him, and their bag of bank-robbing stuff.

"Great, now they're in the lead," I snapped. "Can you tell me why we're even trying to get LeShawna out? I don't need a bunch of stupid prop equipment to rob a bank."

"Then...what exactly are we waiting for?" Heather asked evilly, eying the vault.

"We can't just leave LeShawna," Harold whined while Heather and I ran off to the dude trailer.

She easily kept up as I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, hoping the others hadn't gotten to the bank yet. I skidded across the dirt, shifting directions and heading into the trailer, her following, and Harold a few hundred feet behind.

I yanked open some drawers, thinking. Okay...gotta make something that looks like a gun... I grabbed a couple things out of Harold's top drawer, tossing them over my shoulder to Heather. Also, a bunch of random magazines and fliers that looked useless. I pulled out some socks (CLEAN socks), too. Gotta have scary ski masks.

Harold ran in, breathless, while I cut holes in them. "Those are my lucky socks!" he complained.

I shoved the cut sock over his big, dorkalicious head, cutting up some for me and Heather, too.

"_Were,_" he corrected dryly.

I started cutting out some misc. letters from his stupid books, pamphlets, whatever they are...gluing them to a new piece of paper.

"You cut up my karate magazines for a stick-up note?!" Harold screeched.

Pissed that he wouldn't shut up, I lifted up his mask, splopped some glue on his forehead, and jammed a doodle of him I'd made into his face. I stepped back and looked at it. Man, I was good with sketching. I walked back over to the table and grabbed some deodorant, some kinda funky creme, and tape.

"Not my foot spray and deodorant!" he begged. "I need those!"

Heather came up next to me with her arms folded. "It's true, there _are _limits."

I rolled my eyes, wrapping the stuff all together with the gray tape, anyway. I twirled the newly made "gun" around on my finger with a cocky, smug grin, Heather saying, "You're an evil _genius_."

Harold nodded.

"I know," I admitted, throwing her a mask and pulling one on, myself. I shoved the gun in my pants, folded up the note I'd made and shoved it in my front pocket, and also shoved my iPod into my _back _pocket. Hey, ya never know when you might wanna listen to toonage.

We all walked coolly up to the bank, disguised and armed. It almost felt like we were walking in slow-motion – were we? I pushed through the doors of the cardboard bank, stomping up and banging on the counter. The ceiling and floors were a dark charcoal, while the walls had paneling slashed through the middle and were a reddish brown. There were those stupid, velvet ropes that your mom always told you not to swing on, and green leather couches set up along the walls. The teller area was a tan/gold, bars in the windows.

"Yoo-hoo?" I called. "Anyone home? This is a robbery."

Chris popped up from behind the counter, making the three of us jump. "WELCOME, GAFFERS!" Well, I jumped...the H-bombs crouched down with their arms over their heads like something was about to blow up. I slapped a palm to my forehead. What a couple of wussies. "You've beaten the Grips to the scene, sooo...you'll get first crack at the teller!"

I frowned, confused. "How it _that _possible? They were way ahead of us."

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Last I heard, they were having some problems with Owen. ANYWAY, you reenter the building, and the teller will be here for you to rob."

I picked the H-bombs up by their shirts, standing them awkwardly. "Let's move." We walked outside, shut the door, _opened _the door, and there was the teller chick, like Chris had said. I stepped up and pointed my fake gun at her. Her back was turned, so I couldn't see how hot she truly was. I mean, she's got a rockin' body, duh. She had sweet, mocha skin, long, slender thighs, a skinny waist... I ran my eyes up and down her legs, resting on her butt. W-w-w-wow. So I put on a cool, sexy façade. "Afternoon, ma'am," I said silkily. "That's a great sett'a legs you got there. But _right_ now I'd like to focus on those lovely hands of yours." I set a sack Harold'd brought on the counter. "I need them to start filling this pillowcase with cash."

Her voice was oddly familiar... "Anything else I can do for you today...?" Then she turned and pulled off a long, blonde wig. "_Duncan?_"

It didn't register at first. I blinked. Was it...was it really her? I was too stunned to do anything. My brain went into embarrass-yourself mode, and I fainted.

Damn it.

* * *

"I think he's dead."

"He's not _dead._"

"Sure looks dead." Faintly, I felt someone poke me.

"He can't be dead, moron; he's breathing. God, Courtney. What'd you do to him?"

I became a little more alert at the sound of Princess' name. I tried to open my eyes, but let out a groan instead.

"Y'know," Harold said, "what if you tried to awake him like in those olden movies? Where the fair maiden kis–"

"Shut the hell up, Harold," Heather barked.

I let out a chuckle. "Eh, you guys are funny." And this guy's loopy...

"Ugh, finally, he speaks," Heather announced. "Can you move?"

"I think so," I sighed. Aw, but I was so comfy. Did I have to?

"Seriously, get up. You're crushing me."

My eyes sprang open, and I hopped out of Heather's lap, trying not to _eeeeew _at the fact that I was basically cuddling her. I leaned back on my hands and stared at her with a freaked expression.

She gave me a weird look and stood, looming over me with Harold.

My gaze went slowly from her...to the beautiful piece of work across the room. My eyes locked onto hers, but she folded her arms and turned away, smiling smugly at Chris. I glared. So that's how it's gonna be, huh?

Chris was holding a sheet of paper, reading it slowly, almost like every word he read stabbed him in the chest. "Teams, it is my..." He looked at Courtney and cringed, hiding behind the paper. "..._honor_...to report that Courtney is back for the duration of the game."

She smiled at me and wiggled her fingers in a chickish wave.

I kept staring at her. I mean, who _wouldn't? _She's the most gorgeous thing on the planet, and she used to be mine. And all because she misconstrued my friendship with Gwen, she's up for grabs. But...why's she waving? Does she wanna get back together? Did she realize she's wrong?

"And we're all..." Chris paused and squinted at the paper. "...exceedingly happy about it."

Heather put her hands on her hips and glowered. "She got booted out _fair _and _square._"

"Sorry, Heather," Princess said tauntingly. Ooh, she has the voice of a thousand angels. "But myself, and the law firm of Flechman and Flechman, Cohen and Strouse would beg to differ. We filed a wrongful dismissal lawsuit against the producers...and _won_."

Harold elbowed me lightly once I was standing. "Good news, eh, Duncan?"

I squished my palm to his face and shoved him away, feeling myself blush.

"So! Courtney," Chris said, bringing all the attention back to him, "since you were our bank teller in the challenge – great job, by the way – you get to decide which team deserves to win first prize. Yer bag of l-l-loooot." He tossed her a small bag of what I guessed was money. Whoa! Actual money! Maybe this isn't such a bad place, after all!

Princess caught it with ease, saying, "The choice is obvious." She turned to my team and held out the bag. "It's Duncan– I mean...the Gaffers...."

Heather pushed me forward with a small, go-get-her smirk.

I frowned and hesitantly walked up to Court's window.

"...since they were the only team that managed to get to my wicket. Congratulations."

When I reached out and took the bag, our hands brushed together. I know it's a total teenage, stereotypical cliché, but it felt like a jolt of butterflies, electricity, and all that crap buzzed through me when our fingertips touched. "Thank you?" I squeaked, it sounding like a question.

"I've seen manlier men trying on _women's _shoes," I heard Heather say under her breath. I didn't care.

"So, this means the Killer Grips win _second prize_!" Chris shouted happily.

"What's second prize?" Justin asked from the Grips' side.

"COURTNEY! For the rest of the game!"

Even though Courtney and I didn't have many relationship points left, it felt like everything shattered. I wanted her to be on my team! No fair! He can't do that!

"_Or_..." I usually hated it when Chris said "or", but right now I was metaphorically sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to spit it out. "...until she's eliminated." I slumped. Stupid Chris.

He walked out and stood between us two teams. "So, Grips, Gaffers, your getaway cars are waiting. Better get a move on before the cops arrive!" We all stood there and glared at him, thinking he'd continue. Then he threw a finger toward the exit and yelled, "That means gooooooo!"

We all sprinted out the door, the teams sticking together. I don't know if it was intentional, but Courtney ended up running right in front of me. I couldn't keep my eyes from grazing over her legs. Oh muh gawd, they're hot.

"Getaway cars are always cool," Harold said as he ran next to me. "That's the rule of heist movies."

"I'm hoping for a Porsche," I heard Beth say.

I panted as we ran up the fake mountain where we'd had to set up our sets in episode three. There were two big piles of crap and spare car parts on the ground about ten feet apart. My team's was green, and the Grips' was red. I stared at the pile, ticked off.

"What's all this junk?" Justin asked, speaking my mind.

A horned honked six times, playing _I wanna be famous_, like in the TDA theme song, and Chris drove up in a long, red car. I had no idea in hell what kind of car it was, but it was grandpa-ish and stupid. "These are your getaway cars," he told us. "Just _waiting _to be assembled."

"That is _sooo _not hot," Heather grumbled.

"If the vehicles were ready to go, it wouldn't be much of a challenge now, would it?"

All eight of us groaned, and he zoomed off. Dust blew in our faces when his tires screeched along the dirt. He didn't get far before he crashed into a set building. "Aw, CRAP!"

I grinned at his exit, clapping my hands once. "Okay, let's get to work."

"Ugh, this looks hard," Heather groaned, kicking a wheel.

"Yeah, that's why chicks don't work in auto repair shops." I got down on my knees and started digging through the pile of junk, looking for tools. "Hey, H-bombs, see any wrenches?" I called to them.

"No," Harold wheezed apologetically.

"Mmm-mmm." Heather shook her head.

I sighed. "Great." Then I heard a _cling, _and glanced over to see a silver wrench on the ground next to my leg. I looked up at my team. They were wandering around aimlessly. Huh. Then I looked to the Grips, feeling like someone was watching me. Courtney's hair fell back down around her shoulders, like she'd just turned her head quickly in order to avoid eye-contact. She was facing away from me, snapping at Lindsay.

"No, that goes there!" She snatched it from the blonde and shoved the piece she was talking about into a different hole.

"Hey, thanks," I said, swinging the wrench around.

Princess glanced at me, annoyed. "Whatever," she sneered.

I frowned. Man, she sure knows how to crush a guy's spirits. I shook off the slimey feeling, though, working in high-speed. I ran around the pile and found a couple seats, making sure the bottom of our "getaway car" (go kart) was well put together so I could attach them. I gave Harold the job of finding me parts, and Heather offered to clean off the kart a little...make it look better. I bolted a couple of tires on, grumbling at the small engine I found buried in the junk. I tried dusting it off, it broken in a couple places. But with a few minor tweaks and adjustments, I thought it was good enough to drive for a while. I screwed the sides on, Heather put the flag in, I put in the stick shift, drilled the grill on, shoved the axle into place, the sprockets, chains and uni-hubs...

Harold rolled over the fourth tire I needed, which I quickly prepared the spindle for. "They're not even getaway cars!" he complained.

I glanced over my shoulder. Wow, I do great work. It truly looked awesome. Awesome for a go kart, anyways.

"They're go karts!"

Oh, when'd he figure that out? I rolled my eyes, followed by a grunt of effort. I was about ready to slide the tire into place. "Stop whining and give me the lug nuts."

"Yer not bad at this," Heather said, satisfied by my mad skills (as Harold would say), but I would totally never say that out loud. EVER.

"It's just like stippin' a car," I said brightly, bouncing the tire. "Except in reverse." I actually had the guts to glance over at Courtney again (which I hadn't done since she gave me the wrench).

She stood there helplessly, confused and pissed off beyond all reasons. Holding a tailpipe clenched in her dainty hands, she growled at it.

I dunno why, but the chickdom of this situation was so hot. She was the clueless girl who didn't get cars, and it had my heart racing. I gazed at her lovingly. This is the part where the guy who has the crush on the girl should jump in and save the day, teaching her everything he knows. But instead, the guy crushes his hand between the spindle and wheel he was carelessly putting on while retardedly distracted. I cried out, trying to mute it by gritting my teeth. I bit my lip as I listened to her addictive bitching.

She turned to Justin and yelled, "Ignore the sideshow, and start putting together the chaise!"

He put his hands palm-out, shaking his head. "Is there something I can do where I won't get grease on my epidermis?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You're kidding, right?" she asked blankly.

"Hand modeling is one of the things that put me on the map," he told her silkily.

"Obviously, that would be the map of Uselessville! _How _did I get stuck over here?!" She looked around the lot with a scowl. "Where're the others, anyway?"

He shrugged, slinking off.

I would've helped her – really, I would've – but the H-bombs were counting on me, and I was the captain. I couldn't waste time helping the other team win, even if it were made up of a zillion Courtneys. You know what would be among those zillion Courtneys? TWO zillion boobs. I almost drooled at that thought. "Finished," I breathed, wiping oil and sludge off my hands. First thing I do when we win, is take a shower. I looked over the kart, making sure it wouldn't fall apart as we drove. I sat down in the driver's seat smugly, spun the 3/8 of an inch bronze bushing onto the steering rod, and snapped the wheel on. I started the engine and revved it twice. I smirked at Harold and Heather. "Hop in."

They both looked pleasantly surprised, beaming that we were the first to leave. Harold sat next to me, Heather on the other side of him.

I revved the engine again a few times to make sure it really worked, and let go of the brake, speeding off. The tires squealed, and we flew right past Courtney and her pile. I couldn't help but feel bad for her; she was alone, and she's a chick, so it only makes it ten times worse. Hey, I'm not sexist! I came to a halt, shifting the kart into park, and looked back at her. I was gonna say something reassuring, but Harold did a fist-pump next to me and said, "Ha! We're so gonna win! Great work, Duncan!"

Then Heather agreed with an, "Awesome team captain!"

I swallowed my niceness. Hey, I have a reputation to keep up with, here. I'm not gonna go ga-ga for a bratty girl. "Hey, Courtney!" I called back to her. "Maybe you'll get to see more than just the back of me when the teams merge!" I gave Harold a playful nudge with a devious smirk.

She glanced back at Justin, so, so, so, so pissed. "At this point," she gasped, wiping grease off her face. "I take it!"

Huh. At least it wasn't a bitchy remark like, "Shove it, ogre!" or "In your perverted dreams!"

I smirked wider. God, all this clueless chick stuff is _sexy._

"Let's _go, _Casanova," Heather instructed, jabbing a finger at the dirt road ahead.

I yanked the shifter into drive, the kart making a few clangy, nails-on-a-chalkboard noises before lurching forward. I sped past all Chris' fake, prop trees, heading down the cliff. I inhaled deeply, saying, "Man, I love driving." Too bad my license was suspended back home. Yikes. Funny, I had to work so hard to get it in Ontario, just to have it taken away _that _afternoon. Like, two hours later.

"Wonder how LeShawna's doing..." Harold said loudly over the roar of the engine, twiddling his fingers.

"Eh, who cares?" The wind blew against my face, blowing back my hair, almost making me feel high. I just love that feeling. I leaned over the wheel as I drove. You take away a man's license, and you take away his will to live. Hey, I was _planning _on putting all those cows back!

"I wonder where we're actually headed?" Heather looked over at me.

Hmm. I thought about that for a second. "Chris never said anything," I practically shouted. The engine was getting louder and louder, alerting me we didn't have much time till it died.

"Stupid ass." She crossed her arms, and I chuckled, Harold giggling.

"How fast do you think we're going?" he asked.

I shrugged, turning right. "I dunno. Probly seventy."

"Watch out!" Heather pointed to a rack of clothes that freakily appeared in front of us.

There was nowhere to turn and no way to stop in time. "AAAH!" we all bellowed. Aaaaand...we crashed through it.

I grimaced and pulled a pair of panties outta my face, laughing when I noticed Harold was wearing a bra. Heather laughed (while wearing a clown outfit), too as he tried to cover it up. I grabbed a baby hat thing off of my head and chucked it.

We rolled down the remainder of the cliff, finally on level ground. Then there was a semi-truck coming at us! OHMYGOD! "AAAAH!" I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing I would die. _Mom, _I thought, _don't let Dad sell all my stuff. __Give it to Johnny, Derik, Seth, Kyle and Dana – they'll want it. _When we smashed through a huge poster instead of a truck, I sighed out in relief. I'd almost peed myself. OHMYGOD! NOW WE'RE GONNA FLY OFF A BROKEN BRIDG– Nope. That was a poster too. But the three of us screamed, anyway. Hey, it was scary, man. NOW WE'RE GONNA HIT SOME COP– Nope. NOW WE'RE OFF OBRIT, HEADING STRAIGHT INTO SATURN– Nope. NOW WE'RE GONNA HIT AN OLD MAN WITH AN EYEGLASS AND A HOOK!! But when the old geezer flew over our heads and we heard a _thud_ behind us, I knew that he hadn't been a poster.

"Oh, shit!" I yelled, swiveling my head around. "Did I actually–?"

"Eyes on the road!" Heather commanded. I listened to her, eyes boggled, forgetting about the guy I probly killed. Chicks are deadly vicious when they're determined, man.

* * *

I drove around for an extra twenty minutes, looking for the finish line. "Damn it," I snapped, driving through the rows and rows of set buildings. "Where is it?"

"There!" Heather pointed to Chris and Chef waiting for us behind a line with a checkered flag.

"It looks like the Gaffers are about to make a clean getaway and win the challenge!" I heard Chris call from a couple hundred feet away. Yeah, he was far away, but he's so full of himself that his annoying voice carries.

I grinned. We're gonna win! Then the unthinkable happens (okay, I assumed it would), and the kart breaks down. It sputtered and choked, slowly coming to a stop.

"What's happening?" Heather shouted frantically.

"I think we're outta gas," I replied, tapping the fuel gauge I'd installed down by the gear shifter. Oh. I thought it'd been the engine...

"I may've spoken too soon, ladies and gentlemen," Chris yelled from afar, lowering a black blob that I figured was a pair of binoculars. "Talk about a real hold-up."

Harold stood up in his seat, looking over the back of the kart as I tried to make it drive. "They're gaining on us!" he gasped.

In my peripheral vision, I could make out Court and the others coming up fast. Their kart wasn't on ground, driving, but they had the body hiked up by their waists, just carrying it to the finish line.

I jiggled the shifter, trying to rev the engine ever-so coolly like I had before. Nothing works out for me, does it? I tried shutting it off and turning it back on again. Nothin'.

"Vrrrroooooooooooooooooom!" Owen shouted happily, the Grips running past us.

"Crap!" I tried the shifter again.

"That's obviously not working!!" Heather bitched.

"Fine, we'll push." I jumped out of my seat and walked around to the back, shoving on it to make it move.

"_Push? _Why can't you just go steal some gas, criminal?"

I glowered at her as Harold joined me in pushing. "It'll just take longer..." I'd actually thought about doing that for a split second.

She huffed, coming around to help Harold and me with a groan of complaint. The kart was a lot heavier then it had bad while I was putting it together.

"This is hard," Harold wheezed, whining.

"Try standing downwind of you without deodorant," she grumbled.

I trudged along. There went my happy mood.

"Faster, faster!" Courtney shrieked, her team picking up the pace by her lethal tone.

I was almost embarrassed for her, she sounded so egotistical and controlling. But that's one of the things I love about her, I guess.

But then, right before the Grips crossed the finish line and claimed victory, their kart collapsed, breaking into thousands of random pieces they'd shoved together.

She screamed, the H-bombs and I rolling our kart over the painted-on, white line. Chef waved his flag around as she shrieked. "I WILL NOT BE SECOND PLACE!"

Chris gave her a malicious, in-yo-face, almost gloating glare. "Wanna bet?"

She clenched her fists so hard, her knuckles turned white, and I thought her teeth would shatter if she ground them any harder.

The H-bombs and I parked the kart in front of the line, exchanging knuckle-touches and high-fives.

"First off," Chris announced, "I'd like to congratulate both teams for choosing to go green! But in the end, the Gaffers are the winners!"

I cheered, Heather and Harold doing the same joyously. I felt really smug, I'll admit that. Hell, it was _my _mad skills that won us the challenge. I _should _feel smug.

"That means," Chris went on, "I'll be seeing the Grips at tonight's Gilded Chris ceremony. And Gaffers...even though you committed the anything-but-perfect crime..." I shot him a scowl. "...you get to enjoy victory, and yer bag of loot."

"All right!" I said, snatching the bag of money from Heather.

* * *

I dumped the sack of moolah on the table in the corner of the dude trailer. Heather and Harold leaned over, gaping at all the cash. I threw my arms up and grinned. I'd never seen so much money in my life! Except for that one time at Bank of America...nevermind. "WE'RE RICH!" I shouted, hugging the thousands of dollars. "OH HO, LOOK AT ALL THIS–"

"'Nonnegotiable Chris Cash, accepted only in the Total Drama Action craft services tent, towards the purchase of water from the tap'?!" Heather yelled, crumpling the dollar she was reading off of.

Harold scratched the Chris printed on a piece of money in his hands. "Sometimes I really hate that smile of his."

"Are you kidding me?" I barked, reading some of the cash myself. "AARGH!" I grabbed multiple dollars between my fingers and shredded them, Heather staring at me afterward like I was a freak.

"Hmm." Harold gazed at the pile of ripped, green paper. "I'll be in the restroom." He sniffed, wiped his nose, turned, and walked out the door.

I grumbled, brushing it all off the table and into a garbage can. "Chris is such an ass!"

Heather picked the clown nose off her face and nodded. "I know." She glanced at me when I sighed, saying, "Hey, maybe you should go talk to Courtney."

I didn't take my eyes off the trash, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Jesus, there she goes with bringing _her _up again. But I hid my anxiety well under my badass façade. "Why should I?" I said flatly, pushing the can back into the corner of the room.

Heather tossed the rubber nose onto Geoff's old bunk, shrugging. "I don't know...just...I dunno why she wouldn't want to be with you. You're okay."

I turned and cocked an eyebrow at her, suspicious. When had Heather ever said anything nice? I mean, besides the "Awesome team captain!" thing and complimenting my car-building skills?

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, sitting down at the table with me. "But maybe it's for the best, you know? She's not good enough for you."

I was stunned, my mouth stuck hanging open. I was dumbfounded. Confused. Astonished. Stupefied. I stuck a finger into my left ear and twisted it around. "What was that? I...I thought I heard you say something uplifting."

She groaned, rolling her eyes. "Jesus, Duncan, keep up. I'm not a bitch _all _the time. S'not that big a deal."

I chortled once. "You said 'snot'."

Sneering, she stood and tromped around the table. But I grabbed her wrist before she could actually get anywhere.

"Wait," I said, smirking. "Since I've caught you in a scarily abnormal good mood, what else nice do you have to say about me?" I _had _to ask. I didn't really think I had very good qualities, which was why I usually sulked around all day. Yeah, I'm an ass-kicking, juvenile delinquent, but that's pretty much everything everybody has on me.

Heather smirked back, sitting down again. "Okay, here's a deal: I'll tell you five nice things, if you tell _me_ five nice things."

I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing around the room. "Can we make it two?"

She smacked my arm. "No, you asshead! Now hurry up before I get pissed at you."

"Fine, fine," I laughed, clearing my throat. "Uuhmm...you have..." I looked her over. Man, she's got an _everything. _"You have pretty eyes," I told her honestly. I mean, she does. But _NOBODY'S _eyes would _EVER _be as gorgeous and tear-jerking as Courtney's. NEVER EVER, EVER. And it's true – Heather has these cool, icy gray eyes that remind me of my pet cat, Spiky, who's a grayish blue.

Heather actually blushed, looking away. "You have good muscle definition," she mumbled.

I flexed my arms her way, making her laugh. "Yeah," I grunted breathlessly, holding out a bicep. "Feel this bad boy."

She poked my arm, giggling. "Rock hard."

"You better believe it."

"Next." She drummed her fingers on the table, an expectant, _I'm waiting _expression on her face.

"Hmm." I put my chin in my hand. "You're like...the queen of bitchiness. Props for that."

"That's the best you can come up with?" she barked with a glower.

"Shyeah." I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Next."

"Okay..." She smiled evilly, narrowing her eyes. "...you're the biggest asshole I know. Props for that, too. No offense."

"Oh, none taken," I replied, almost a little bored. I grabbed the box of Harold's Roseart crayons from the middle of the table and started doodling on the surface. "You've got hot legs."

She stuck one out over the table, an inch from my face. "Really?" she singsonged, running her hand along her pale calf.

I gulped, taking a shaky breath before composing myself. "Yeah." Believe me, Heather isn't my favorite person alive. Yes, she's totally freaking hot, but her meanness kinda decreases the intensity of it. Besides, I'm Courtney's guy...if she ever decides she wants me back. I just can't picture myself with anyone but her. She's my dream girl...and I think I might even love her.

_Whoa, Duncan! _I thought. _Don't get carried away, man. Remember? SHE'S A BRAT._ _SHE dumped YOU. Why should you be waiting around for her like some kind of sissy? It's not like you _know _she's gonna eventually wanna hook __up again._

Heather folded her long leg and put it back under the table. "My turn?"

I nodded while my inner-self badgered me about being a man and making my own decisions.

"Well, you're too good for Courtney. I said that already, but I'll add it to my five." Heather yawned. "Man, I'm so tired." She yawned again and leaned against my arm.

I stiffened, eyes wide. Was she...was she making a move on me? Uh-uh. I can't deal with this today. I casually scooted to the left, pretending that the shift was just to get a better angle on the picture I was working on on the table.

"You're also good at sketching and stuff." She looked at my drawing over my shoulder. "What's it supposed to be?"

I reclined back in the booth and actually looked at it. I'd been too distracted, just randomly scribbling. It looked like... "I think it's a castle," I blurted out, gesturing to the tower. "I wasn't even really paying attention to what I was doing."

"Huh." Heather waved her fingers around the landscape. "I like the trees. Creepy." She glanced at me again. "Two more."

My god, can't it just be over? This was such a stupid idea. "Uh..." I broke my least favorite crayons in half. "You're smart?"

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, I guess, but I already knew that."

"It still counts."

"Keep going."

I thought again. What else was there to say? I scratched my goatee, thinking. "You're a really good runner. Especially in those wedges – dunno how the hell you do that."

She gazed at me, satisfied. Then she popped up and headed for the door.

"Hey, what about _my _fifth compliment?" I complained.

She turned with a hand on the knob. "You're an excellent kisser." With that, she smirked, pushed open the door, and left.

I stared at the open doorway, once again, stunned. How did she–? Oooooh, during that psycho killer challenge, yeah. Y-y-yuck. Not one of my most-treasured days. It's not like it had been..._unpleasant _or anything. It just hadn't felt...right. Nowhere near close to right.

Harold skipped in, humming. "You should see the Pokémon cards Beth's got!" he exclaimed vibrantly. He looked around the room, noticing Heather's absence and my dumbstruck expression. "What happened?"

I blew out a couple lungfuls of air I'd been subconsciously holding in. "A lot."

* * *

That night, I was on my way to the washroom to brush my teeth, when I bumped into the dreaded dumper. "Why, hello, Princess," I said, oh-so chipper. I tried acting like my usual, annoying self, like nothing was wrong, like I wasn't all broken on the inside, like I wasn't humiliated by her breaking up with me.

"What do you want?" Courtney grumbled.

I shrugged innocently. "Nothing. Just gonna go brush my teeth."

"Well, what a coincidence!" She beamed with fake, sarcastic surprise. "Wow!" Then she scowled deeply and scampered past me. "Yeah, whatever."

I ran up and walked along next to her. "No," I said as we stepped through the communal bathroom doorway, "I really do have to. They're all fuzzy and my mouth tastes like crap."

"Don't forget to brush your fangs," she muttered icily, squeezing bright blue Colgate onto her purple toothbrush.

I clenched my teeth around my Reach flosser, just staring at her in the mirror as she practiced oral hygiene. Then I decided to let that comment pass and give it another go. "Hey, you of all people should know I'm not a vampire – I was never able to jump through your two-story bedroom window, I don't watch you eerily while you sleep, like a stalker, and I don't munch on mountain lions in the middle of the night, later telling you about their wonderfully rich aroma and how much I desire to kill you, too."

That actually made her giggle, and I felt a bajillion times better, the tension between us easing up a little.

But she quickly sobered and went back to angrily brushing, shooting glances at me as I did the same.

I tossed my head back and gargled some Listerine, her just swishing with water. "Want some?" I held the bottle out to her after I spit, the green liquid sloshing around inside.

"Ugh, not from _yours_," she sneered, pushing it away snobbishly.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't suck it out of the bottle, Princess. You fill the cap, take some, and rinse the cap off. Easy and Duncan-Germ-free."

She wiped her hands on a towel hung next to the sink. "The answer's still no." She slowly ran a hairbrush through her shoulder-length, silky, chocolate-brown hair. All the way from the roots, to the tips. It was making me tired, watching. Then my eyes dragged down her body, and I became a little more alert. Hell, I wanna kill myself for thinking _Heather _is hot. Courtney is like...there are no words to describe how perfect Courtney is. Her light pink tank top was tight across her chest, reaching down to a little lower than her hips, a few inches before her boy shorts ended and creamy skin began.

I almost started hyperventilating, her shooting me a disgusted expression like I was a pervert.

"You can go now," she hissed, jerking her free thumb at the door.

"I'll help you brush your hair," I offered brilliantly, a big, stupid grin on my face.

She stared at me with her nose wrinkled like I was a complete tard. "_No_!"

I reached a hand out. "Can I just feel it?" My fingertips swept through her hair softly, and I shivered. Yeah, it's official. Courtney's perfect.

"Why are you touching me?!" she demanded incredulously, hopping out of grabbing-range, mouth agape and face bright red.

"Oh, uummm..." Well, that was...humiliating. Why can't I control these stupid, unwanted, wussy emotions?! I spun around and grabbed my stuff, practically sprinting out the door and into my trailer.

"Aaah!" Harold wheezed when I bumped into him, blue cards flying everywhere. "Dang! Watch where yer going!"

"Sorry," I said lamely, dropping my bathroom utilities in my dresser drawer. I glanced around, a brow raised. Usually this place it stanked-up and fuscusting by the time I get back from the washroom. "Where's Owen?"

"He got voted out," Harold replied, picking up the cards he'd dropped daintily while on his knees. "Chris'd told the Grips that Courtney had invincibility, but they voted for her, anyway. So only her choice was counted."

"I sure am gonna miss Owen," Justin butted in from the opposite side of the room, arms behind his head up in his bunk. "He's like the funny guy who makes the movie, y'know? As soon as she doesn't get immunity, we're taking Courtney out."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. "Huh." Climbing into my bed, I started sweating out all the embarrassment that had filled me minutes before. Jesus, what kinda person am I turning into? A goody-two-shoes? I shuddered, wrapping the blanket tighter around my body. I'm a badass, and badasses want girls, girls, girls. That, and of course to torture people, steal and destroy stuff. But when it comes to girls, my kind (I say "my kind", because I don't know any other way to describe myself and others like me) aren't deep into relationships. It's mostly about making out, and sex. The end. But something was going on inside of me...something I didn't want to happen. Was I falling in love, or am I just going through a funky, delayed stage of puberty? I could only hope that it was the second thing.

*** * ***

**Thank you bundles for reading my first chapter of "Duncan Can't Take it"! I hope you liked it, and I'll be posting chapter two soon! And please check out my deviantART! The link is in my profile!**


	2. One Million Bucks, DxC

**I KNOW YOU'VE WAITED A LONG TIME FOR THIS...BUT...JUST SHUT UP!! I DO NOT own TDA, TDA plots or any TDA characters! I just write what happened and ADD SOME STUFFFFFF!! Some idea credit goes to To(dot)The(dot)Sun(dot)--she has a DxC fanfic and in it Duncan has a voice in his head who gives him advice and stuff. I probably would've done that anyway, even without reading To(dot)The(dot)Sun(dot)'s story, but I just want to make sure I give proper credit to anyone that deserves it. Also, I'll be posting another short chapter later this week, and credit for THAT idea goes to edwardandbella4evah!! Thanks so much to her, and all my DxC story fans who've waited a pain-in-the-ass-like long time.**

*** * ***

**One Million Bucks, DxC**

For the past few nights, I tossed and turned, grumbling and groaning. I was having the most awful dreams, and between them were just painstakingly long periods of time where I couldn't get to sleep at all, feeling like a zombie. My nightmares were all about Courtney, no duh. About her screaming at me, telling me she didn't love me, saying that I was a monster and that I shouldn't even be alive...

Justin and Harold had thrown pillows at me during all my night-terrors, but I wasn't really awake enough to care.

Around four in the morning, I'd had a dream where Courtney told me that spiked dog collars were for evil people, so I'd taken mine off and tossed it on my night table, though I usually sleep with it on, just to enhance my badassness.

* * *

The sound of Justin humming to himself while styling his hair woke me up the day of the challenge, but I was groggy. I paced around for a few minutes, rubbing my eyes. Though I hadn't entirely gotten much sleep, I felt pretty well-rested. Good enough to last today's torture...whatever the hell that might be.

I saw Harold picking his nose, and I gave him a dirty look as I put my shirt on. "Diggin' for gold?"

He glared and folded his arms. "Maybe."

Rolling my eyes, I snatched my collar from the bedside table and snapped it on. I walked over to Justin, adjusting it. "Dude, how can you spend so much time of your coif?" I think he was on his third can of hairspray for the morning.

"My agent, Jesus, says it's my best feature," he responded, spraying all around the sides of his head to stick his hair down, not a strand out of place, unlike my messy mohawk. "Along with my neck, nose, chin, cheekbones, earlobes, eyebrows..."

I smirked. He was so _full of himself. _And I thought CHRIS had a gigantic ego! I waved the hair product out of my face, it wafting around Justin's big head. "You know who's got nice hair?" I figured I could say this, since he wasn't really listening. Besides, I had to say something nice about _her _out loud, or I was going to melt. "Courtney," I sighed, feeling weight lift from my shoulders just by saying her name. Her hair had felt too soft and silky to be real that night. Thinking of that, I felt embarrassed by the way I'd acted and warmth spread to my cheeks. Seriously, why hadn't I been able to control myself?

She probably hates me even more than she did before. But I wouldn't know, since I've been avoiding her for the last three days. I saw her, but I quickly shot the other direction or ducked behind something so she wouldn't notice me.

I went back to the hair topic. "I-I mean, not that I've ever noticed." I shrugged nonchalantly, glancing at Justin to see if he was paying attention.

"Or maybe it's my _eyes,_" he was babbling to himself, a finger on his chin.

"I mean, I _did _notice," I went on. "Back when I cared." I shouldn't care now, though, right? She supposedly hates my guts for some stupid, non-understandable chick reason (except maybe the hair thing...yeesh). Who goes around dumping people for hanging out with friends, anyway? Even _Heather _said that she didn't think I did anything wrong, so you _know _it's the truth. "But not now," I said quickly. Yeah, I shouldn't care anymore. Courtney's not my problem, I'm not hers. We're broken up, so we shouldn't even think about each other unless we have a specific reason to, not just to daydream.

...Okay! Who am I kidding?! I can NEVER stop thinking about her, no matter what I do! My thoughts are _always _consumed by her presence, and my chest flutters whenever I see her! I know it's only been a few days, but it's driving me up a wall! I can't take it! What am I supposed to do until she gets voted off?! It probably sounds ass-ish, wanting her to leave, but if she's just gonna be bratty and a pain-in-the-ass, unwilling to fix what we had, then she might as well not be here. Of course I couldn't let anyone else see the pain I was really in, so I angrily tugged my Mohawk higher as I thought maniacally.

A bar of soap rolled into the trailer, and I cocked an eyebrow at. Harold walked in, glasses off, a white towel with a blue stripe wrapped around his waist.

"You dropped your soap, dweeb," I said, cheering up a little. When in doubt, make fun of the dork. That's my motto.

"Nice try, Duncan," he wheezed, squinting in my direction. "Just 'cause I'm blind without my glasses–" He took a few steps forward. "–doesn't mean I'm stupi– WWHHOOOOA!" Planting a foot on the pink block of soap unknowingly, he slipped and slid through the trailer, flying up into the air. Also...his towel flew off, and he gave Justin and I a good peek at his, uh...unmentionables.

I think I'm blind. But I laughed anyway, my vision slowly coming back. "Aw haw, dude."

Then he just stood there, his junk hangin' out...butt naked. Did he _not _know that his towel was lying on the floor a couple feet from him?

"What?" he asked when Justin and I were quiet.

I looked at Justin with a freaked face, him even more weirded out.

"I'm comfortable in my own skin," Harold said chipperly, trotting away.

"Just keep yer skin to yerself, dweeb," I told him intimidatingly. "I seriously don't wanna have to look at that all the time."

Justin nodded next to me with a grimace. "Yeah, please." He went back to combing his hair, and I relaxed back in my bed, waiting for Chris to blow a foghorn or yell at us maliciously and alert us that he was about to bestow pain upon our helpless, teenage heads.

Harold had just finished getting dressed when he jumped up, unusually pasty, slapping his hands to his face in complete terror. "OH, CRANKERS!! LeShawna's still in the safe!!"

I shrugged, closing my eyes. "And?" I sighed, bored.

"'AND'?!" he screeched, scrambling toward the exit as he yanked his shoes on. "SHE COULD BE DEAD!!" He threw open the door and sprinted out, screaming, "I'LL SAVE YOU, LESHAWNA!!"

Heather stepped in, looking back in the direction Harold had run. "What's got _his _panties in a bunch?"

"He thinks LeShawna's dead in the safe," I yawned, putting my pillow over my face.

"You guys actually left her there?" Justin asked, dropping his tub of styling gel.

Heather rolled her eyes. "_No._" Then she frowned and said,_ "_Well, yeah, we did. But Chef found her around five and let her out; she's back in the trailer."

"Good," I muttered. "I already have enough crap on my police record – I don't need to add a homicide."

She put her hand on her right hip and smiled. "Courtney's in there, too."

I sat up sharply, my pillow falling to the floor. "Okay, yeah, wha...what'd she say? Did she ask about me? Not that I care, or anything, 'cause I don't. But does she need any help? 'Cause I noticed there was a loose leg on her bunk. Did it collapse?! I'd be–"

"Could you shut up for, like, a second?" Heather barked. "She's fine."

"Oh." I slumped back into my bed.

"She's actually been spurting random things about you all morning." Heather shrugged, picking up a picture of Harold and his camp counselor from Picky Stan's...magic...dress...vault...Camp whatever from the dresser.

"Really?" I asked quietly. But I smirked and raised a brow when Justin gave me a you-still-care-you-desperate-douche look. "Seems the chick's still into me. Must be sorry she dumped the D-man." I put my arms behind my head and laid back again with a jerkish sigh.

Heather gave me a disproving glare and shook her head slowly.

I frowned. She really wants me to get back with Courtney, doesn't she? But why does she care? I mean, it's not like it's any of her business, anyway, right? What was it she said about Courtney talking about me? 'Spurting random things about me'? Man, maybe I should just drop my badass act, go over and–

A really loud, prehistoric-sounding horn thundered outside, rattling the trailer, and making my ears ring. I jumped up, alarmed and alert, until I remembered the ass probly waiting oh-so maliciously for us outside.

"Ugh, must be challenge time," Heather grumbled when the trailer stopped shaking. She pulled on the hem of her shorts to straighten them, and stepped outside.

"Perfect timing, too." Justin licked his pointer finger and swept one loose strand of hair to the side dramatically. "Finished."

I scoffed at his lack of dudeliness, and we shuffled outta the trailer, joining the group gathered around Chris. He was standing with his hands on his hips about a hundred feet away, smiling ever-so wickedly. Did I expect anything different?

"Talk about your fashion faux pas," Heather said when she caught sight of his outfit, which looked like something pulled right out of the Flintstones.

LeShawna grimaced and pointed a finger at his gay attire. "Is _that _boy wearin' a loincloth?"

"Lllllike it?" Chris asked happily, gesturing to the animal print.

I choked on laughter, not-so-cleverly hiding it in a cough. Then I thought...I hate Chris. So I started laughing my head off. "AH, AH HA HA! It hurts!" I hunched over my knees and wiped a joyful tear from my eye. "...A lot."

He looked seriously offended. It took him a second to reply. "Ya think that hurts," he barked, "wait till ya hear today's challenges. Now, let's get started."

Courtney cleared her throat loudly, getting everyone's (mostly mine) attention. She raised a brow and looked at Chris, annoyed, as if to say _You forgot something._ I smiled goofily. She's just so cute when she does that. NO! I don't think about her that way anymore! I'm not supposed to care about her dominant, controlling personality, her rich skin tone, her slender legs, her...her adorable, freckled button nose, her eyes, which are deep pools of onyx, her...okay I gotta shut up my brain now. She stood at the complete other end of the group, arms crossed.

"As soon as I take care of a few formalities," Chris added snappishly, glaring her way. "Thanks to Courtney's lawsuit, she'll be playing by a _different _set of rules."

"You said there _are _no rules," I reminded him, jabbing an accusatory, badass finger. Court can't change up Chris' "rules" just because of her lawsuit...can she?

"There _are,_" Courtney butted in smugly, "when you have a good lawyer."

Chris had his fists clenched, so obviously he was being made to do this. "Chef, let's get this over with." He held out an impatient hand, and Chef dropped a big, black book into it. Chris opened up to the middle of it and tapped the page he landed on. "Ahem! Rule one: Not withstanding the contestants are not permitted contact with the outside world, contestants hereafter referred to as _'Courtney' _may retain a Personal Digital Assistant. Aka, her PDA."

"What?! That's so not fair!" Beth complained. "I'm the one with the boyfriend!"

"Care to take it up with our Legal Department, Beth? _Huh?_" He jerked a thumb back at Chef, who was dressed like a Judge, and obliterated the podium he was standing at with the gavel.

Beth gasped and covered her mouth, eyes wide.

Eh, no communication with family and friends who don't really care about me? I think I'll let that one slide. I shifted my weight to my right foot and waited for him to continue. Man, I'm bored. And I didn't exactly feel like hearing all the things Courtney could get away with doing because of her stupid lawyers.

"Didn't think so," Chris said malevolently. "Rule two: Whereas contestants shall continue to receive allocated meals provided by Chef Hatchet, _'Courtney' _shall be entitled to a gourmet dining experience with parties consisting of producers and myself as applicable." He said the last part with a guilty, joyous grin. "I hope you like lobster."

No way!

Everyone started yelling and shaking fists, really enraged. I just stood there, angered. How come she got to get out of eating Chef's CRAP PIE all the time? I mean, his stuff isn't _that _bad (it was completely unidentifiable last season), especially when ya wanna stay fit and in shape like, ahem, me.

"Let's see yer lawyers get you out of this one," Chris said to Princess, obviously meaning the angry mob starting to form around her.

"What?" she demanded toward everyone, holding her hands up. "I'm still sleeping in the girls' trailer."

"Where, she will have a pure goose down pillow," he said in a sing-songy tone, ticking all of us off even more, "extra lofty comforter, and...seven-hundred thread-count sheets. Oh! And her own...private...bathroom."

All the girls (and Justin) went bananas, jumping around and shrieking like some wild monkeys.

I sniffed. Eh. Bathrooms don't matter to _real_ dudes. All you need 'em for is peeing, pooping, and bathing. I don't need a huge counter top to lay out all my makeup. I just maybe need a drawer for my eyeliner. Hey! I only wear it on certain occasions...

Shut up.

"Those are the new rules." Chris tossed the book over his head, landing on a squirrel, flattening it. "Let's call them..._Courtney's Rules. _In honor of _Courtney_...who gets _special treatment. _And, an unfair advantage."

"Nice," I commented sourly. "Our spoiled princess didn't waste any time hooking herself up." Yeah, hookin' up with GOOD FOOD! Damn, I still love her, though. I'm gonna have to think up a way to get around that dilemma.

Court stomped over and started poking me in the chest. The contact made my skin prickle even through my shirt, and I had to force myself not to grin at her being this close. "And _you _didn't waste any time hooking up with _Gwen–_" She spat the word. "–after I left."

I bit my lip. I wanted to tell Courtney a thousand times that she was the only girl for me, but, of course, I had to keep up with my reputation. Y'know, sometimes I wish I didn't have to act like a complete jerk to make people respect me. So I decided to play it cool, not say too much and keep her confused by _not _saying I didn't have anything with Gwen. Yeah, that'd keep her pissed. I put my hands on my hips and smirked at Princess. "While I'm touched yer obviously still hot for me," I said, "my relationships are none of your business." Perfect.

"You're on TV!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "They're _everyone's _business!"

I scowled. Grrr... Good come-back... I got up in her face and started defending myself, a useful habit to be in when serving a few rounds in Juvie, bunking with complete assholes. "Well then the _whole world knows _that at least _I _play by the rules!" Then I frowned and added, "...Most of the time." She stared at me, realizing her face was only a couple inches from mine. I stepped back and smiled wryly. Now's the time to chew her out and drag the attention away from myself. So I started attacking her use of lawyers and contracts. "What, don't think you can win the million bucks fair and square?"

She slapped my hand out of the air (which happened to be pointing at her like Courtney-needs-backup-haha) and glared at me. "I could kick your two-timing butt with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back!"

I'll admit...the words stung a little. I guess they would've hurt _way _more if she were actually right and I _was _a two-timer. But just to think that she truly believes I would do that to her... I was getting mad now. For a) because she considers me as a jerkoff, loser, cheating asshead. And b) because she keeps referring to Gwen like she's a witch. "S'gonna be pretty tough to eat lobster like that," I growled, and Court and me slammed our foreheads together, scowling and snarling like animals.

"While I'm loving this show of hostility," Chris said as he walked by us, "I think today's challenges will help bring out your more..._primal _instincts. Today's genre...the period movie!"

Court sneered and pulled away from me, kicking dirt onto my shoe.

I cocked a brow and gave her a challenging, is-that-the-best-you-can-do? look.

"You're such a pervert," she snapped. "What was with you and my hair last night? No. Wait. Don't answer. I don't even want to _know _what goes on in your mind, as small as it is."

I glowered at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek and glancing away, daring my cheeks to blush. So I'd practically drooled over her luscious hair...so what? That doesn't make me weird...does it?

"OOOH!" Beth swooned. "I _love _period movies! All the pretty petticoats and dresses with puff-sleeves!"

Heather's head whipped over to Chris hopefully. "Do we get wigs?"

"Chef?" Chris called, glancing back. "Do we have a wig?"

Chef boredly yanked a long, red, dirty-lookin' wig off a garment rack that came out of nowhere, throwing it to her.

"Ugh!" Heather grabbed her nose and gagged. "It smells like _raw meat._"

"That's because our period is the Paleolithic period..." Chris announced. Oh, like that wasn't obvious? Really? No one figured that out till just now, when he said it? God, people are such idiots. "...which I thought you dumb-dumbs might've guessed from my _llloincloth._"

"Paleo-lipstick?" Lindsay wondered dumbly. "Is that a new brand?" I shook my head exasperatedly.

"It's the stone age," Beth explained.

"DUH!" I shouted.

Beth shot me an annoyed look and went on. "We're going to be cave girls."

Chris glowered. "No talking! Cave people grunt and look confused. Which means, for once, you're all perfectly cast."

I bent and picked up a decent-sized rock to chuck at his head, but Justin grabbed my bicep to stop me.

"As much as I want hair," Heather gasped, holding the ugly wig out at arm's-length, "I am _not _putting that sick thing on my head!"

"No problem," Chris said smoothly, yanking it away. "You look pretty savage, anyway."

She rubbed her head, reaching out and snagging the wig back. "Wait!" Then she set it on her head and grinned, stamping away.

I chuckled. Oooh-kaay.

"Okay!" Chris looked at all of us. "Cave people in prehistoric flicks do two things: make fire, and use tools made of bones. Technically, you should also know how to bring down a mammoth with a stick. But since Owen's no longer here...no mammoth, no challenge." He giddily walked over to that garment rack I mentioned before, motioning to the scraps of fabric dangling from the hangers. "Here are your costumes. Get into character, people."

"You've gotta be kidding," I said incredulously, my eyes landing on a super-short one that looked about my size.

"I never kid," he said seriously. A burst of maniacal laughter bubbled out of his mouth, and he corrected, "Actually I do, but never about something this funny."

I frowned in regret. I knew I should've never signed up for this show, million dollars or no million dollars. But, hey, who knows? Maybe I'll actually end up winning.

"You'll look _perfect, _Duncan," Courtney said next to me, evilly satisfied. "You're already a total Neanderthal."

As she flipped her hair and tramped away, I tried to think of some kind of witty retort. I leaned forward, about to say something high-and-mighty-like, but she threw some loincloth bottoms at my face.

I grumbled something I didn't even understand as I pulled them off, tossing them back at Justin.

"Ooh, orange," he said excitedly. "Jesus says that it's a good color to pair with my skin tone."

Courtney walked by me again with her costume draped over her arm. I couldn't help but notice how tiny it was. "Better get dressed, caveman," she taunted, heading toward her trailer.

Heather came up on my right with her hands on her hips, glowering at Courtney's back before she closed the door. "Don't worry about her. She'll come around."

I crossed my arms. "Doubt it. I've never seen her this...Courtneyish."

Heather gave me an amused, questioning look. "'Courtneyish?'"

"Yeah. I mean, she was always kind of a brat, but now she's on bitchy overload." I kicked at the dirt, scuffing up the front of my shoe. "What happened to the sweet side of her I used to know?"

Heather stared at me sadly in sympathy.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," I snapped. "It makes me sick, thinking someone actually cares and feels sorry for me. I don't need your pity." Everyone ran inside their trailers to get their clothes on, Chris and Chef had gone off to a tent somewhere, and the camera crew had walked away, so it was just her and me.

"Don't worry," Heather said, grasping my shoulder. "She'll realize she's wrong. Just give her some time."

I glanced at her. "And why are you so nice to me lately?"

She shrugged. "You're team captain. Besides, I've never really hated you, unlike everyone else on this damn show."

I chuckled. "Tell me about it."

"Just...don't worry about Courtney, okay?" She leaned forward and kissed my cheek, taking much longer than necessary to pull her lips off my face.

I was frozen, eyes wide as she smiled, turned, grabbed her costume off the garment rack, and trotted away. I wiped the sparkly, coconut-scented lip gloss off my face with my hand, rubbing my palm on my pants. _Did that...did that just happen? _I mentally shook myself. God, was every chick out to get me? Like, _get me _get me? Who knew I was so goddamn attractive? I shook my head incredulously and grabbed the last item off the rack, _guuhhh_ing at it.

* * *

I ran inside my trailer, breathing out in relief when Harold had just pulled his bottoms up over his ass.

"Hello, Duncan," he said, flexing his puny arms. "I noticed you staring – see anything you like?" He gestured to his boney chest.

I glared at him in disbelief. "I'm not gay, you weirdo!"

"So..." Justin gave Harold a weird look. "...does that mean..._you're_ gay?"

Harold's eyes darted around as he frantically picked up the room, shoving things into drawers. "Of course not! My love for LeShawna is unimaginable! Never-ending! To think that my brain would contain homosexuality–!"

I rolled my eyes as I pulled my shirt over my head. "Yeah...whatever."

Justin started barking at me when I left my boxers on under the cavedude outfit. "Hey, Chris said to be like cavemen, we must live like cavemen; do you think they had underwear a billion years ago?"

"No way," I groaned. "When'd he say that?"

"Everyone has to," Harold wheezed. "Even the girls."

I smirked, yanking my boxers down. "Seriously?"

Justin nodded. "Yep."

"I hope I'll accidentally fall under LeShawna today." Harold clamped his hands together and looked dreamily at the wall.

I walked up to the mirror and scowled at my reflection. "Chris is such a turd – these costumes are stupid."

"Jeez, Duncan, would you stop complaining?" Justin picked at his hair. "My weave can sense your upset vibes. You're making it fall!"

I stared at him. "If anyone in the room here is gay, it's you."

"Oh, yeah?" he growled menacingly, lurching away from the vanity in the corner and threatening me with his fist.

"Yeah!" I stood up taller to try and tower over him, to make him feel weak. Too bad he was a few inches taller than me, meaning my efforts were useless.

"You want somm'a this?" He threw a punch at my chest.

I resisted the urge cringe, rub the spot where he hit me and whine. "Step off!" I was about to punch him back when Chris' voice rang through the atmosphere.

"Contestants!" he called maliciously from outside. "Front and center, pleeease!"

I scowled at Justin. "I'll deal with you later." Before exiting the trailer, I stopped by my dresser and dug through the top drawer. I was grateful that this stupid costume had pockets, though they were small. Be that as it may, they still held a medium-sized stick of dynamite I'd been holding onto since I was twelve (I'd wanted to be like Sid, from Toy Story), my knife, a small can of bright red spray paint, and a fire extinguisher. Also, my signature silver lighter. I never smoke, but sometimes it comes in handy when burning down your neighbor's gazebo. Or their whole house, for that matter. Not that…never mind.

Hey, man, you never know when you might need all this stuff. It's better to take it than to not and regret it later. I closed the drawer and bashed Harold in the arm when I walked past him to the door, cracking my knuckles as I got in line by LeShawna on my team's side of the lot, across from Chris. Harold ran up and got on her other side.

"Hello cast," Chris said, approaching us all. "Nice to see you all decked-out for the competition. And might I say, you all look pre-hysterical."

My eyes narrowed. This was gonna be a long day.

"Who knew I'd look so hot in leopard skin," Harold murmured to himself, checking out his bottom-half.

"Ow!" Courtney said from the Grips' side. My head whipped over, and I had to remind myself that I had no reason to see if she was okay, or to feel bad for her. "I think mine still has a claw." She rubbed her de-licious booty and grimaced.

I bit my lip. Why'd she have to make me feel all lusty and...hot? And, damn it, why the _hell _did her clothes have to be so...SMALL? It made me anxious just to gawk at her, and I quickly looked away, only a little bit curious as to why Heather said, "Um, there! Got it."

My attention shifted back to Chris when he – looking way more excited than he probably should've been – said, "Chef! The tools for the first stone age challenge, _please!_"

Chef grumpily stomped by with an armload of rocks, dropping one in everybody's palm. "Here's yer rocks," he grumbled as he gave me mine.

"Rocks?" I said disbelievingly, holding it up and examining it. "Aren't we taking this 'stone age' thing a little too literally?"

"Shows how much you know, Duncan," Harold wheezed, pushing his glasses up and turning to face me dorkedly. "Rocks are an _awesome _resource. Inuit hunters use them to build Aniakchaks. Plus, they make a great paperweight– OW!" Oops! Did the rock that flew out of my hand accidentally land on his foot? Pffft. Gravity. "That hurt!"

"Whaddya know?" I said evilly. "Rocks _are _useful."

* * *

Chris put his fingers up. "First team to collect the hidden firewood, and use the _flint _stones to make fire, earns something to help 'em with the second challenge. Ready?" We all tensed. "Aaaaaand...ACTION!"

I stayed where I was as everybody ran off to find the firewood. I glanced around, wondering which direction to head. I couldn't see Courtney (she must've taken off first), and I was almost a little sad.

_DUDE! _I thought. _You aren't almost a little ANYTHING. You don't like her anymore, remember?! She hates you!_

_That's what I thought last season, _another part of me butted in suddenly.

Then my thoughts were silent, and I was confused, standing alone in the middle of the dirt lot. You know what? I blame it on women. Why are chicks so crazy? It's all their fault.

I sniffed and headed to my left, looking in bushes and behind rocks. LeShawna and Harold had gone the same way, I noticed as I ran in their direction. LeShawna found a big stack of wood and I smiled as she sprinted past me, back to where we were supposed to ditch it. Harold jumped behind some trees, and I looked to the right, wondering where Chris would've hidden the firewood. I jumped when someone grabbed me from behind and yanked me three feet up into the air. Instead of kicking and struggling and killing the dude, I felt a breeze and fumbled with the hem of my ridiculous outfit.

"Hey, hey! Easy there!" I felt myself blush slightly as I pulled it down, back over my unmentionables. "Notta lot of fabric, here." Damn it, Chris. I hope that wasn't caught on camera.

"Hand it over," Chef growled, the back of my loincloth clenched in his fist as he held me above the ground. I was actually a little surprised that he knew about– Nah, I wasn't. I rolled my eyes and pulled all the stuff I'd shoved in my pockets out, tossing them on the ground. First the knife, the dynamite, the spray paint, then the fire extinguisher. I looked back at Chef and smirked innocently. No way was I gonna leave my lighter there for grabs.

"_All _of it,"he commanded, pointing a finger at me like I could be intimidated by him like a child, "prehistoric pond scum."

I cussed under my breath. Knowing Chef, I wouldn't be going anywhere till I did what he said. Man, he pisses me off. "Alright, alright," I said coolly, reluctantly reaching into my pocket for the lighter. I was gonna throw it into the dirt, when Harold shouted from afar, "HELP! IT'S AFTER ME!" I probed my eyes over Chef and saw him distracted, so I shoved the lighter back in my pocket without him noticing.

"AAAAH!" Harold ran out of clearing of fake trees, firewood in his arms and screaming like a girl. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!" My mouth dropped open when I spotted a huge – really, it was _gigantic –_ prehistoric beaver, with big, pointy tusks, chasing him from behind.

"Ha-ha ha ha HAA!" Chris cackled, approaching Chef and I. "Looks like Harold found the wooden beaver dam from the set of..._Rodents! Who KILL!_" He smiled viciously at the cameraman and shook his hands around in the air for dramatic effect.

"AAAAAAH!" Harold screamed again, running around us.

Chef chuckled and put me down. "And Rodents Who Kill part two."

"WHY?!" Harold tried to scramble away from the now two hideously gigantic beavers chasing him. "AAAAH!"

I frowned. Hey, I didn't feel bad that he might get eaten; I just didn't want to be short one person. So I turned to Chris and asked, "Those killer beavers are animatronic, right?"

His brows pulled up. "Animatronic? Of course!"

"Hmm." I glanced back over at Harold and smirked viciously. "That's it! Keep those knees up!"

"HELP ME!!"

I yawned, bored. And just to be a jerk, as he ran by, I tripped him, smiling smugly. "Way to get the wood, teammate."

But then one of the beavers stomped up and bit down on his leg, dragging him away. "NO!!! AAAAH HA-AHH!!" Harold screamed.

I watched in almost-horror, not really caring but extremely curious at the same time.

"Comin', baby!" LeShawna came speeding onto the scene with a branch held up over her head, clobbering the beaver who was trying to eat Harold.

I smiled, glad that someone was taking care of him so I didn't have to. I walked over to the pile of sticks he had dropped when the beaver dragged him off, and walked them over to our fire pit, passing the Grips.

"I don't get it," Lindsay was saying, looking down at the flints she'd placed in her lap. "How do you make fire with a rock? Oh! Is this like that game Rock, Paper, Scissors?" Her pink bikini was the smallest, but I showed no interest in checking out her mostly-exposed bod. Courtney, on the other hand...

I stared at her back, mindlessly throwing twigs and branches into our fire pit. The way her hair hung down and swept over her bare shoulders and neck... I wanted to go over there and just...just...hug her or something. She's so soft and smells so sweet. Well, that's how I remember her, at least. I haven't really been close to her since the day I left for TDA.

I'd made a fool of myself that day and blushed all the way to the TDA lot, not even thinking about taking off from the dock until after I was on the boat out of there. I'd actually considered jumping off the speeding yacht and trying to swim back to the island, but I figured Courtney was probably on a plane back home by then. I'd tried to throw Chris overboard when he took my cell phone away (I'd taken it out of my pocket and kissed the screen, frantically dialing Court's number.)

"No-can-do, campers!" Chris had said, tossing all our phones into a sack. "Or should I say...'_contestants'? _We're no longer going to be on the island, people. We'll be on a dangerous, horrifying, blood-chillingly creepy film lot!"

I sighed, coming back to reality as I slammed my two flint stones together, trying to make fire. Like this crappy place was creepy and blood-chilling. Dangerous...maybe. Horrifying? Hell, no.

I noticed Heather slowly crawling up behind Courtney, a pair of scissors in hand. My eyes widened when I realized she was reaching for my Princess' perfect hair. "HEY!" I whispered urgently. "HEATHER!"

She froze, not taking her eyes off of Court's hair. But she sprang away when Court rolled her eyes and scoffed, leaning over and snatching the flints from the dumb blonde across from her. "Give me those," she said impatiently.

I wanted to strangle Heather when she came over after tossing the scissors in a bush. "What the _hell _was that?!" I demanded, lowering my voice when the Grips glanced over at us. "Tell me you weren't trying to cut her hair off."

"Maybe I want some hair," Heather responded stubbornly, whining a bit. "Why should she be so lucky? She's the biggest bitch on the show, now."

I dropped my flints and stomped toward her. "You shut up," I snarled through my teeth. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, protective much?" She pushed the finger I had pointed at her away, glaring at me as LeShawna ran up with Harold flung over her shoulder.

"I'll have this going in no time," Courtney was saying as she gripped her flints. "I _was _a CIT, you know."

"Ooh, she is _not _back on that again," LeShawna snapped, Harold groaning in pain from his beaver attack as she held him. "This isn't camp, it's a movie set."

_Yeah, but you make fires at camp, don't you? _I wanted to shout. "She _is _a total drama queen," I said, meaning to be teasing, but it came out sour because of my sudden bad mood.

Court shot me a nasty look. "_Why? _Because I think you're a _dog _for hooking up with Gwen?"

I ground my teeth together. God! She's being such a...such a brat! I'll have to vent about this later in the confessional.

"Things are _finally _heating up!" Chris threw his arms in the air and grinned, standing between the two teams.

"Go, Duncan!" Heather cheered as I scratched my flints together again, them sparking over our fire pit. "Burn 'er!"

I smirked when it looked like Court was having trouble. Hey, I love her and all, but there's nothing wrong with a little competition, is there?

"Yay!" the Grip girls were cheering. "Go Courtney!"

"I _love _it when sparks fly," Chris said almost dreamily as Court slammed her flints together.

I was getting annoyed. Why wouldn't the twigs ignite already? I hit the rocks against each other a few more times, frowning. And when Courtney's firewood started to smoke lightly, I dropped the flints, devastated that I couldn't get the fire going myself, but swiftly pulled out the lighter I had gotten away with keeping. I lit the thickest branch, and it quickly caught fire, spreading to the rest of the pit rapidly.

Court's mouth was stuck hanging open, gaping at my humongous fire as it grew in disbelief.

I jumped up and shouted crazily with my team. "I make fire!" I pounded on my chest like Tarzan, shadows bouncing off my face from the flames as they licked the air. "OOH, OOH, OHH, OHH!!"

"Courtney!" Chris approached the Grips, satisfied by the scene. "I thought for sure _you'd _be the first to burst into flames." She scowled at him, baring her perfect teeth like a hot sabre tooth tiger. "Gaffers win the first challenge!"

"AH!" Court stood sharply and threw her rocks at the ground. "You _obviously _gave me _fake flints! _Nobody could start a fire with these ridiculous props!"

Lindsay snatched them daintily and clapped them together softly, a spark flying into their stack of sticks powerful enough to light the whole thing. "Fire!" she announced as the flames consumed the pit, Courtney just stamping her foot after a shriek and storming away.

I watched her pass, arms crossed. I almost felt bad that I'd cheated, 'cause surely she would've won. She does have a fiery personality, y'know.

_Do I have to kill you? _that voice in my head barked.

_Maybe, _I agreed.

_Ugh. _The voice scoffed acidly and sounded like he was rubbing his temples, frustrated and pissed at me. _How many times do we have to discuss this? Forget about her. You guys are done; finished; over. Stop wishing you could be there for her. Stop feeling sorry for her. She's just as big of an enemy and threat as everyone else here is. She's competing for the money _you _want. You have to take her down._

I was taken aback when the realization hit. I was right – she _is _competing for my money. _My _cash. _My _million dollars. I'd been planning to crush everyone here...but that confidence and dedication to creaming people had slowly deflated once Courtney showed up, even more clever and manipulating than she'd been before.

I scratched my head, walking numbly to where Chris instructed us to go next. What if I end up losing because of her? Not that she'd be able to beat me or anything, but because I _let _her win. I'd do things for her that would give her the opportunity to breeze through the challenges, make things preschool-easy so she could continue on without trouble from any of the others. What if I actually started losing challenges for her, just because...well, because she's Courtney?

I halted and ran a palm over my face. But, God, isn't that what Trent did for Gwen? I'm not an idiot – I knew what was going on. He was purposely losing because he thought it made her happy. But Gwen is the total opposite. If she wins, she wants to know that she won _herself, _by hard work and dedication and whatnot. Courtney? She'll take what she can get. If she can win, she doesn't care if it's by cheating or because someone let her win. All she wants to do is climb her way to the top and defeat everyone, no matter what it took or how she got it.

She would smugly rule this place, lies burbling underneath her flawless skin. Everyone would think she could kick some ass, when really, she'd conquered all with help she never thanked anyone for.

_So, _I concluded as I stepped up by my team again, _I will _not _end up like Trent. I will kick her firm, mocha ass. I will crush her vicious spirit, I will crush her dedication, and most importantly, I will crush all means of manipulation she has, ready to throw at me. _Honestly, I can be controlled by her really easily, though no other chick (not even my mom) has ever in the history of me been able to. I actually hate to admit it. It's like she has this hypnosis-like spell that she can enchant on me whenever she pleases.

Back at camp when we were together – which was what, a day? – when she lost her notebook, I searched for it for her. When she came over to my cabin in the middle of the night complaining she was cold, I tossed my blanket to her and slept on the mattress. Then I went over and stole Harold's, but you get the point. And after we'd stolen Chef's food, I spent a whole night carving that wooden skull for her, feeling like I had to prove myself to her. Prove that I could be the boyfriend she deserved.

And, man, was I a wussy.

I'd never met the perfect chick before. But now, I know all her tricks and schemes. Never again will I be fooled by the Princess.

"Time for our second caveman movie challenge," Chris announced, grinning evilly at us all. I stood between Harold and Justin, my inner self still going on and on. "But first, Chef will pass out your rewards from this morning." Morning? We just did it! "Chef! Weapons, _pleeease._"

Chef boredly walked up to a mound under a big red, patchwork sheet – I was scared that I knew what patchwork even was – and pulled it off, revealing a huge pile of different-sized bones.

"Ex-_cuuse _me?" LeShawna demanded, a hand on her hip. "Our reward is _bones?_"

"Hey," Chris said, "for cave people, bones were cutting-edge technology." Chef walked by and handed everyone a bone. "Aaand, they're not your reward."

I gladly took mine, only to get infuriated when I caught sight of the bone he gave Courtney – I-I mean...the ones he gave the Gaffers. Yeah, that's what I meant.

My inner voice sighed. _Of course it was._

"Hey, what gives?" I demanded harshly, waving my puny little bone around. It probably wasn't more than six inches long. _"We _won the challenge – I made fire._"_

"_Actually..._" Chris gave me a sidelong look. "...you didn't. We viewed the footage caught on camera, and...you made fire with a _lighter, _which is _not_ a stone age tool." I hate that smug voice of his. "Which means..._Lindsay _made fire first! The Grips are the winners!"

The Grips cheered and Courtney narrowed her eyes at me, smirking. "Well, well. Duncan I-play-by-the-rules cheated. Big surprise."

"I've got many more for you, sweetheart," I replied coolly. _How was that?_

The inner me did a face-palm. _Fabulous._

She growled, and Chris cleared his throat, hands on his hips. "The props department for caveman movies are bare bones, which means _these _are all actors have to fight their on-screen enemies with." His voice grew half an octave with every word, and he started chuckling maliciously.

LeShawna leaned forward and glared at him. "And who might these enemies be?"

"Each other, of course!" He threw his hands up at the sky. "Grip tribe versus Gaffer tribe!"

"Cool," I said, a little distracted. I held up my bone and waved it around, imagining killing Harold with it. "We have to fight each other with bones?" Just as I was thinking, _I need a bigger bone, _something came crashing down on my head, and I fell to the ground. "AARRGH! GUUHD..." I kneaded the top of my skull and looked up, Courtney standing over me with her arms extended, her giant bone grasped in her hands. Oh, come on, what'd I do to deserve that?

"I like your enthusiasm, Courtney," Chris taunted, pleased. "Only, you'll be fighting over there." He pointed lazily to the far end of the lot, where, lodged in a huge tar pit, where two plaster columns. "Each player who knocks his or her opponent off the column, into that big bubbling tar pit, scores a point for their team. To the tar pit!"

I stood up slowly, stumbling a little, shaking my head in confusion as everyone ran away.

"Dude," Chris said, pushing me forward with his palms pressed to my shoulders, "getcher head in the game!"

"Right...game...right." I picked up my bone and blinked, clearing my foggy thoughts as a headache formed on the left side of my skull. I ran up next to Harold and watched as he tried to help LeShawna up onto her column. "Need any help there, beef?" I asked sarcastically.

He glared at me through his green lenses. "I...got it...," he wheezed, smashing his head into the plaster totem pole of death when LeShawna climbed the rest of the way up.

She narrowed her eyes at her bone. "I'm supposed to knock her off with this teensy weensy little bone?"

Lindsay was standing on the column across from her, holding _her_ bone cluelessly in her hands as she glanced around. "How do we know when to start?"

"Oh, don't worry!" Chris called up to them sinisterly, grabbing onto a gigantic horn that reminded me of _A Bug's Life_. "You'll know!" He laughed maniacally and pulled back, taking a super deep breath and blowing into the mouth of the horn.

It was so loud that it shook the ground. "Whoa!" I tripped back against a tree, missing Lindsay fall into the tar pit from the earthquake-like effect the horn had. I pumped the air with my first and yea'ed with everybody, glad we got the first point.

"Aw, see, now that was just _way _too easy." LeShawna looked down at Lindsay and shook her head in triumph, though she hadn't exactly done anything.

"That's one point for the Gaffers!" Chris announced. "Next up...Beth and Heather!"

Then all of sudden there was this raspy screeching. I looked up and saw a bunch of pterodactyls flying right over our heads! I wanted to shout "Oh GOD, we're gonna die!!", but everyone was standing around, oohing and ahhing over awesome special effects.

"Cool special effects, man," Justin said to Chris silkily, holding out a hand. "High five."

"Oh totally special effects," Chris replied, backing away coolly.

"Why don't you just jump off _now _and save _us _all the time?" Heather smiled sinisterly at Beth, looking as bitchy as ever.

I started to wonder some more why the hell she'd kissed me. It's not like she could like me…right? I gasped along with the rest of my team when one of the pterodactyls flew by Heather and grabbed onto her head.

She screamed and started beating it with her bone, terrified. Well…knowing Heather, probably more pissed than terrified. "AHH! My hair! Let go or you're dead meat, Tweety!" Then it flew off with her newly adopted wig, and she fell forward, grabbing onto Beth. "Ahh!"

"Let go," Beth cried, struggling to hold on.

"_You _let go," Heather challenged.

Beth smiled. "Okay." Then she dropped Heather and she fell into the tar pit, yelling the whole way.

"Alright!" the Grips were cheering.

"WHOO!" LeShawna threw her hands in the air and shook her hips. "Alright!"

"Hey, whose team are you on, anyway?" I questioned her, eyes narrowed.

"Yours," LeShawna answered, "and hers. But it's kinda lose-win, no?"

Heather stood up awkwardly in the tar pit, slipping and trying to stay upright in the goo. "Isn't anyone gonna help me out of here?" she half whimpered, half whined.

"Not it," I said under my breath, casually strolling away. If I helped her, then it might just increase whatever weird feelings she has for me. Maybe if I'm an ass, she'll leave me alone.

"And that evens the score at one-all for the Grips and the Gaffers." Chris walked out and did his announcer-voice in front of the camera perched near the edge of the tar pit. "Next up, Justin and Harold!"

After Justin and Harold were up on their columns, Chris sounded the horn. Justin made a determined, your-ass-is-grass face and tossed his bone from hand to hand, trying to look badass.

I yawned and wiped my nose. _Let's see…who's next? _My eyes landed on Courtney, who was looking at me with the same expression on her face. "Aw, crap," I muttered, not breaking her gaze.

Her mouth fell open, and turned to Chris, enraged. She jabbed fingers at him and bit his head off for this. "You obviously just wanted to raise…!"

I couldn't hear the rest of what she said, because two giant beavers approached the pit, the ones Harold had been running from earlier. I grimaced up at Harold, realizing that he was probably gonna lose this round. "Don't blow this, Harold, they're not real beavers!" If he _does _blow this, then I'll actually have to try to beat Courtney. Don't get me wrong, I'd just _loooove _to kick her sweet little ass and rub it in her face. But, I dunno, something just seemed wrong. If Harold _did _win, then I could get away with her "accidentally" beating me and it would be a tie against the two teams. "Just don't go and lose this challenge for us," I shouted at Harold almost frantically as Justin took a swing at him. What the _hell _is wrong with me? "Beavers can't swim through tar."

But, sure enough, the animatronic beavers jumped into the pit and swam toward Harold's column. They started clawing and chomping at it.

Oh, damn, he's gonna lose.

"Their teeth are the size of railway spikes!!" Harold was shrieking.

"You'll be okay, baby," LeShawna called sweetly, trying to soothe the little nerd.

Screw that. To hell with sweet. "Don't be a wimp! The columns are plaster, not wood! And beavers can't climb!"

One beaver started scratching its way up the side of the column, and the other started taking huge bites out of the bottom.

I paused and stared at them both for a moment. "I guess my knowledge of prehistoric beavers is a little rusty."

"Down, beaver, down!" Harold started bashing the beaver's head in with his bone, trying to knock it off. "Go back to your dam!" Then the beaver in the tar chomped through all but a little of the bottom of the column, and the weight from the other beaver at the top pushed it over, into the tar. It landed with a big _thud, splop, _and Harold screamed, grabbing onto Justin's loincloth before falling into the tar with him.

I chuckled at that sight. Maybe Harold really was gay. Who reaches out and grabs at that when hurdling toward the ground?

"HA HA HA HA HA!!" Chris cackled like a witch over by the Grips. "That, was AW-SUUMM!! Would've preferred to see some beaver carnage, _but, _you can't have everything. Anyways, that leaves the teams tied, and us with a grudge match between Duncan and Courtney, on the _same column! _You _just can't _write this stuff!" He seemed way too frackin' giddy.

"Don't get too hyped," Courtney sneered, folding her long, coffee-colored arms. "Duncan won't last more than two seconds."

I gave her a challenging look, an eyebrow cocked. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really." She tossed her hair and smirked evilly, jutting her chin up high and tromping away.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Chris hard. He just _had _to make things complicated. Well…I guess that's what he gets paid for. "I hate you."

"I know." He shrugged, then pointed to the top of the column. "Now get up there and fight yer ex, ya wuss!"

After Courtney and I were on the column together, she lost her balance and started to fall backward. "Whoa!" She grabbed onto the back of my neck, her other hand on my chest as she steadied herself. "Oh!"

The spots she touched tingled, and I had to try so hard not to let on that I was feeling all squishy inside. Man, I just wish my gloomy, badass side would relight and take control of my emotions again. I snickered and narrowed my eyes at her flirtatiously. "Quit trying to make out with me."

"All you're going to kiss," she gasped sticking her bone under my nose, "is the end of my bone!"

Chris sounded the horn, and she pulled back, ready to hit me. I glanced down at the Gaffers, them staring at me expectantly. So I reluctantly (though I made it seem voluntary) leaned back and got ready to pretend to try to hit her. Like I was gonna hit a girl. I may be a stupid jerk, but I'm not _that _big of a stupid jerk.

But I leaned back too far, and almost tripped over the edge, so did Courtney. Before she fell, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. We used each other's weight to pull ourselves back into position. Then, all of a sudden, her lips were on mine. She yanked away and stared at me, stunned. "Oh, yea, now that's the stuff!" That was _so _not accidental. Who accidentally _kisses _someone? Right? Am I right? I'll also be chatting it up with the camera in the confessional about _this _later_._

Court grinned at me, looking sincere and innocent. In that second, I realized that maybe things _could _be like they were before. Maybe we could go back to being a couple, and everything would be normal again. I hated seeing her hate me - it's too painful.

I smiled back at her, and leaned in for another kiss that she'd puckered her lips for. I closed my eyes and waited for that spark of hers again, but all I heard was a Courtney-style battle cry, then my nards were on fire. My knees buckled and my hands instantly went to my crotch, and I fell backwards into the tar pit, landing on my ass. I sank in about five feet, the black goop filling my nose. It smelled like cigarette smoke and tasted like iron and shit. To think that I'd actually thought…

My head burned intensely with embarrassment and anger. My head broke through the surface of the thick, oily stuff, and I crawled out, onto the grass. Not only did it smell and taste bad, it was cold, too. I growled the whole way to the fire I'd, made laying down beside it. I didn't care what Chris was saying or what the hell he was going on about me and Courtney. "Ooow…" I practically whimpered as my nuts stung, radiating into my whole pelvic area. Yea…that sounds weird…

I didn't care that the Grips gasped horrifically about something. I didn't care that the rest of my team was staring at me as they came over with a giant egg. All I cared about was that I really couldn't trust Courtney, and that I could never trust her again. She's just…she's just a bitch.

There, I said it. And ain't it the truth.

* * *

PLEASE, I beg of you, POINT OUT ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS OR THINGS THAT JUST DON'T MAKE SENSE. I'll totally love you for it :D


	3. Weave Got Problems

**First of all, credit for this chapter's idea goes to my friend **edwardandbella4evah**. Second, I DO NOT own TDA, any TDA plots or characters! Just MY OWN plots and characters...if I make any up.**

**This chapter was really fun to do, and I totally LOVE **edwardandbella4evah** for it! So...THANK YOU!!**

**Enjoy guys!! PEACE**

*** * ***

**Weave Got Problems**

This stupid fire wasn't warming me up. It's almost like it was making me even colder. I sat on my butt, my arms rested on my knees and my chin rested on my arms. It was about six now, and the sun was starting to set behind the far-off mountains. The tar sat in the pit, burbling and smelling like that damned cigarette smoke. Everyone had gone back to their trailers, but I stayed put. Truth is, my nards haven't stopped hurting yet, and Courtney'd squashed them over three hours ago.

A long shadow was cast next to me, and I annoyedly glanced over.

"Hey," Heather said lamely. She'd changed into her normal clothes but still wore that God-awful wig.

I gritted my teeth and stared at a couple of ants slowly passing my foot. "Go away," I grumbled.

"You're just gonna sit out here all night?"

I glared up at her. "I said to leave me alone."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "I heard what you said. I'm not deaf, criminal."

"I didn't say you were deaf, I–" I ran a palm over my face roughly and sighed. "Look, could you just leave me the hell alone?"

"Hey, if this newly found depression is about Courtney, forget about it. Forget about _her._" Heather plopped down on the ground next to me, crossing her legs. "Besides, I think I got enough revenge for both of us." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of chocolate brown fuzz.

I stared at it in bewilderment, confused. Then I jumped up in pure rage when it registered; that silkiness; that shine; that color. "Is that Courtney's hair?!" I boomed.

Heather ran her fingers over the smooth clump of hair and snickered. "Yea."

"Gimme that!" I bent and snatched most of it out of her hand. "What the hell, Heather?!"

"I'm just collecting it." She shrugged one shoulder lightly like it was no big deal. "Once I have enough, I won't be bald anymore. Why do you care?"

I ignored that last part – really, why _did _I care? "_Are you crazy?!_" I _really _wanted to beat the crap out of her right now. Also, I was feeling sorry for Court. Yea, I know, I know, I should still be ticked at her, for acting all sweet and cute then pummeling my kiwis. But I'd be super pissed off if anyone cut up my Mohawk crookedly.

"HEY!"

My head snapped over to the left, and out stomped Courtney. Even in the almost-dark I could tell she had a chunk of hair missing from her right side.

She had her blazing eyes fixed on Heather, so I turned and threw the ball of hair I'd taken back to her. Court planted her feet next to me, hands on her hips, jaw set. "What is that?" she snapped, pointing to the hair spread in Heather's lap.

Heather OCDly brushed it all into a little pile on the dirt. "These? Oh, my wig was shedding."

"Really?" Courtney said sarcastically, tilting her head. "Did it shed brown hair all over your bed, too? And, oh, on this pair of scissors?" She held up a pair of silver scissors, and believe it or not, there were about fours hair stuck to them.

"Aw, you're in deep shit, now," I mumbled to Heather, glancing away nonchalantly when Courtney shot me an evil look.

"Yeah, well, maybe it is your hair." Heather stood confidently and stuck her chin out, most likely thinking that Court couldn't do anything about it. But I wasn't about to stop a catfight from happening.

They scowled at each other for a few long moments, me feeling awkward and out of place. As they had their glowering contest, my eyes probed _all over _Courtney's mostly-exposed bod. I hadn't noticed she'd changed into her teeny-tiny jammies until now. Hey, I can't help it if she's hot when she's vicious.

_You're still mad at her… _inner voice chided.

_Shut up, _I barked bitterly.

Heather smirked and started trotting away. She walked around Courtney and said, "You deserved it, you cow."

Court hung her head – not in like, embarrassment or shame (hell, no! This is _Courtney, _you morons), but in…fury. I'd actually never seen her this mad. She balled her hands into fists, her mocha face turning an unusual shade of red. She spun around and lunged for Heather, pouncing on her back. She pulled Heather's wig off and started beating on her with her small fists. "You stupid–!" Court grabbed Heather's forehead and yanked her head back, Heather twisting around and bending Court's arm backwards.

I gawked in amazement. I'd never actually had the pleasure of witnessing a catfight before. And I've gotta say…it's amazing.

Court held Heather's leg in her hands and bit her calf, screaming profanities and thrashing around.

Heather lurched back and kicked Courtney in the face with her three-inch heel wedge.

"Ow!" Court's hands went to her face and she collapsed onto her knees.

Heather jumped up and half-ran half-limped away. "Sucker!"

"You're gonna let her do that to you?" I demanded incredulously, motioning toward the fleeting Heather. "Though, I must say, you were putting up a pretty wicked fight. I would've helped you out, but, y'know…I don't hit chicks."

"Oh, no," Courtney said sinisterly, wiping the edge of her lip. She brushed her finger on her shirt as she stood up, leaving a small blood stain on the pink fabric. "I'm not done with her yet."

"Then what're you waiting for?" I signaled for her to run after Heather. "Go get 'er!"

"Aw, it's so sweet that you care," Courtney simpered, grasping my chin tightly. "But I can take care of myself." She jerked her hand away and strolled off toward the communal bathrooms.

_Aw, it's so sweet that you care, _the inner voice mocked in a girly tone. _Plech. She makes me – well, _us_ – sick._

I sighed. _I know, but isn't that what we love about her?_

He didn't reply.

Well, she either likes me or she doesn't. I rubbed my chin where she'd touched it, a little lost. Girls are too complicated.

"AAAAHHH!!" Heather screamed, running back through the lot in the opposite direction. Her arms flailed around and she frantically reached around at her back.

I laughed when I realized there were multiple pairs of underwear glued to her, and a naked Harold was following her. "Give back my shorts!" he demanded, pointing at her all high-and-mighty-like as he trailed behind.

I kept on with my guffaws, shaking my head. So _that's _what Courtney had meant. After I was done laughing, I realized I had to pee. So I stuffed my hands in my small pockets (I hadn't changed out of my costume yet) and started walking toward the bathrooms. I also wondered what the heck I was still doing dressed like this. No wonder I was so damn cold.

I watched my feet as I stamped along, kicking rocks to the side and cussing when I stepped on some. I walked around the entrance to the bathrooms when I heard a loud sniff. I paused and glanced around cautiously. No one at the sinks, all the shower curtains were pushed aside, empty…

"Hello?" Court called icily, putting on her whole I'm-a-tough-confident-woman act. Her feet came down in one of the stalls, and she pushed the door open, checking for anyone. "Who's there?"

I ducked to the side, hiding behind the outside wall. Slowly inching over, I peeked in through the small window a couple feet from the doorway.

Court sighed and rested her hands on the counter, leaning in to look at herself in the mirror closely. She tilted her head to one side and touched her bruised cheek, a disgusted sound coming out of her mouth. "Jesus," she muttered. Then she fingered her hair, whining when she took in the full extent of what Heather'd hacked off.

I felt bad. _Really bad _actually.

_God, what is _wrong _with you?_

_Die, die, die! _I imagined myself shooting the inner voice, him falling to the floor of my brain with a big thud. Now that that's out of the way…I can talk to Court without feeling guilty.

I casually stepped up to the doorway, leaning against the left side. I was surprised she didn't notice me until I said something. "I can fix that, for you."

She jumped and spun around. When she saw it was me, she sneered and stood up straighter. "Oh. It's just you." She turned back to her reflection and ran a brush through her hair. "What do you want?"

"I can fix your hair for you."

She raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror. "Here you go again with obsessing over my hair. Why don't you just do everyone a favor and stop being a freak."

I frowned with a shrug. "Your loss."

"Wait," she said tentatively when I started back toward the trailers. "Um…how _would _you fix it?"

I held up my arms defensively. "I'm not at liberty to say unless you accept my services."

_Don't, _inner voice groaned.

_I thought you were dead._

Court folded her arms and glared at me. "Fine," she huffed almost inaudibly, looking pained to be agreeing.

"What was that?" I teased, a hand at my ear. "I didn't hear you."

"_Fine, _you can fix my hair, you creepy pervert."

"That's better." I walked in and looked around. "You still have that scissors?"

She reached in the under-the-sink cabinet and handed it to me. "And why am I trusting you with this, again?"

"'Cause you secretly love me." I winked flirtatiously, hoping she actually _did._

She scoffed and gave me a dirty look. "So, um…" She eyed me warily in the mirror as I walked around the back of her. "You know how to cut hair?"

I squinted at a lock of hair of hers in my hand and cut it to the new length Heather had started. If any of the guys (or _anyone here, _for that matter) came in and saw me playing Beauty Shop with my ex-girlfriend…I'd kinda be screwed badass, rebel and punk-wise.

I watched an inch of hair I'd chopped fall to the floor. "Money was tight when I was a kid, so my parents liked to save wherever they could." I shrugged, making sure I was cutting Court's hair evenly. "So my whole family started giving each other haircuts to save fifteen bucks here and there. My mom couldn't cut her own hair, so she taught me how to do it." I grinned. "My mom always used to say, 'Four home-haircuts can buy us dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken for a week!'"

Courtney giggled quietly, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

"Thanks for listening to a small segment of _Duncan's Messed-Up Life._"

"No, no. I thought it was cute." The lovable, adorable, innocent, sweet Courtney started to show. The one I'd fallen for on the island. The Courtney nowadays (the vicious, blood-thirsty, lawyer-finding, easily-overreacting, deliciously hot bitch) melted away and she was herself again. She smiled warmly, looking appreciative.

I almost chopped sideways up her hair, she looked so dazzling. Huh…I don't think I've ever even _thought _of saying that word before.

My inner voice wrote it in a tiny dictionary. _Your vocabulary of words that mean "beautiful" is now at _four.

I ignored him, continuing to stare at Courtney in the mirror, and she stared back. Even with her bruised face and arms…she was flawless.

_Five._

_Shut up!_

I broke my eyes away from hers and tried to concentrate enough to cut her hair straight.

"Listen…" She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "…thanks for doing this for me. I know I haven't, well…been the nicest girl in the world."

"No worries," I replied coolly, hoping I seemed sexy. She sure did.

"Why are you still in your costume?"

I glanced down, remembering I wasn't wearing any underwear. Way to go, doofus. "I was just hanging out by the fire after you…" I trailed off, grimacing.

"Oh." She watched my hands hold her hair delicately. "I'm sorry."

"S'cool."

She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say more, but didn't. So I decided to blurt out what'd been eating at me ever since she showed up. "I didn't cheat on you, okay?" I set the scissors down on the counter and leaned against it, staring at her. "I would never, _ever _do that. And the thought that you would actually think that just…it just kills me, Courtney. I'm sorry."

Her eyes got watery as I went on. "You're so, _so _pretty. I mean, even the thought of me _being _with another girl is just…confusing." I was making wild hand gestures, a little too animatedly. "Yea, Gwen is a great bud. We have stuff in common, big whoop." I folded my arms to keep from looking like a moron, if I wasn't already. "You've just gotta know that I'd never, never _ever_ cheat on you."

Courtney wrung her hands together, giving me a small, sincere smile. "I know."

"You do?"

"I'll, um…I'll think about it, okay?"

"Wait." I put two fingers up. "Did I just hear you agree to consider being with me again?"

She nodded excitedly. "Yeah." She held out her arms, offering a small hug.

My heart leapt. I carefully put my arms around her waist, sighing when I rested my head on her shoulder. _Yea, it's really happening._

She pulled away and motioned to the left side of her head. "Now if you could…"

"Oh, yeah." I sliced through the remainder of hair that needed to be cut, went around and made sure I hadn't missed anything, then tossed the scissors under the sink. "There you go. I'm done."

"Wow." She finger-combed her hair, smiling at me. "It looks great. Thank you."

"No problem." I backed up a couple steps toward the doorway. "So…see you tomorrow."

She waved lightly. "Bye."

I pumped the air as soon as I was outside in the dark. _Yes!_

"Oh, Duncan, wait," she called.

I turned around quickly, and she was all over me. I closed my eyes as her lips crushed against mine fiercely, my outfit balled up in her fists. We leaned in to each other, my hands at her waist. Though…her kiss felt different than it had earlier. Maybe it was just because she was so into it? Maybe she was wearing different lip gloss? Come to think of it…her body felt a little different, too. She felt…scrawnier…less curvy. And she smelled like…coconut.

I put my hands on her shoulders, struggling to push her back as she fought to keep her face pressed against mine. I shoved her back gently, shocked to see that she was standing a few feet away, her mouth hanging open, horrified, in the bathroom doorway. I glanced frantically to the girl in front of me, and there stood Heather in the shadows.

"Mmm, you kiss so good." She curled her fingers and winked at me, sprinting away to leave me alone with Courtney.

I slowly turned to look at her, petrified.

Her nostrils flared, her hands clenched tight. "Well," she said tightly. "I'm glad to know that you'd never, _ever _hurt me."

I pressed my hands to my face. "Court, I can explain. I thought she was–"

"Gwen?"

"No I–"

"I can't believe I actually considered trusting you again." Before she snapped back into her new self, I saw her bottom lip wobble the tiniest bit. She folded her arms icily, scowling at me. "Big mistake. Goodbye, ogre."

I watched her run back to her trailer, an arm outstretched like I could grab her and pull her back over to me. "I _hate _this place!" I shouted. "Damn it!" I pulled my leg back and kicked the side of the stone building. "OW!" Next time I should remember to wear shoes.

* * *

**YEE-OUCH. So we know now that Heather FOR CERTAIN likes Duncan, or else she wouldn't've grabbed him (him thinking she was Courtney) and made out with him. PLUS, we had a little romance when Duncan was helping Courtney with her hair (d'aaw, what a softie!). But then when Courtney came out and saw Heather and Duncan all over each other...! [sniff, sniff] Is that disaster I smell?**


	4. Million Dollar Wienies

**Okay guys, as you may have read on my profile, this chapter is NOT FINISHED. I'm sorry, but I have no intention of finishing it, really. I've put my priorities in order. First is school, next are my siblings, and helping my mom out (she recently broke her foot, so I need to help out extra around the house). So, again, I know I've written these stories, made big gaps between updates, not finished any, and deleted a couple, but I want you all to know that I love ya, and I really am sorry that I don't have as much free time. If you want me to, I won't delete this one. Writing this...the parts you see in the episode aren't really fun at all to write. I only like writing parts that you DON'T see in the episode. Anyone is welcome to continue this. Peace out. B)**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own TDA, any TDA characters or the TDA episode plot.**

The pain in my foot was only intensified as I stomped back to my trailer. Harold and Justin gave me puzzled looks as I stormed in through the door I'd just kicked open, but I gave them warning scowls to keep them from asking any questions.

_What just happened_?, I kept thinking.

_Uh-duh. You kissed another girl in front of the one you're crazy about. You expect that to _not _be a problem? _

I grumbled, climbing into my bunk and flopping down face-first. As I was drifting off, barely noticing I was starting to snore, Harold whispered to Justin.

"What do you think happened?"

Justin's reply was even quieter. "He looked pretty pissed. I'm guessing it was something really juicy."

"What do you think happened?" Harold repeated with a slightly different inflection.

"Who knows? He could've gotten kicked in the crotch, _again_, he could've gotten a warning call from his parole officer… It could be thousands of things. Duncan isn't really the type of person who's really hard to tick off."

A snort came from Harold's side of the trailer. "True."

I narrowed my eyes into my pillow. _Assholes. _Sleep washed over me then, though I fought to keep awake so I could hear the rest of the conversation.

* * *

Shrill trumpets thundered outside, jolting me awake. I sprang straight up and hit my head on the cold ceiling of the trailer. "Gah, dammit!" I jumped down and got into the closest bottom bunk I could fumble to, still grabbing my head, wincing at Harold's snoring. I was about to fall asleep again – though the trumpets had sounded – when they started blasting _again._

"I can't take the shelling, anymore, Sarge!" Harold was yelling, making the mattress above me creak. "I just can't take i-i-t." He started sobbing. Great. I'd picked the one right under him.

I twisted to my right a bit and shot him a disgusted look. _What the hell?_ "Harold, if you added trumpets to your snoring," I growled, "then it's definitely time for you to die."

"That's it," whined Justin, green goop splopped all over his face, "I'm moving to Canada. 'Cept I'm already there…"

I rubbed my eyes groggily and stepped outside. Courtney happened to be diving for her PDA as my feet touched the grass.

"I'm so sorry!" Beth lisped in her headgear to my psychotic ex. "I must've started sleep twirling again!"

LeShawna appeared in the girls' trailer doorway in her too-skimpy lingerie. "Did she say…sleep _twirlin_'?"

"That PDA is my legal right in this game." Courtney's hissing oddly made me feel a bit confortable, I was so used to it. Everyone else cringed at her rip-your-throat-out tone. "Touch it again, Beth, and prepare to be _served_."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Chris McLean, our own messed-up host, shuffling along with a drum strapped to his back and a feathered hat sitting on his perfectly coiffed hairdo. "Well, this better be interesting." The castmates around me followed my gaze.

He held up a trumpet and played a horrible excuse for a wake-up call. "Morning, sports fans!" he called from a couple dozen feet away, lowering the horn to his side. "Who's ready to put up a good offense?" I sneered at his taunting tone.

A steaming tray sat in Chef's hands as he marched over behind Chris. "Spaghetti, here! Getcher pipin' hot spaghetti, here!" He scooped up some saucy noodles and started chucking them at us. The marinara splattered all over the girls…and Harold and Justin…but I stealthily caught the ones thrown at me. That's just how badass I am.

"Whoa, whoa," Harold exclaimed to my left. "That was a spitball!"

Chris smirked. "_That _was breakfast."

Lindsay look appalled. She held her spaghetti out at arm's-length. "Pasta for _breaky_?"

"It's called _carbo-loading_, contestants. Today, you're all going to give two-hundred percent, in our exciting sports movie challenge!"

Disbelief flashed over Harold's face. "You _are _aware that two-hundred percent is a mathematical impossibility." I shook my head. He should've kept his mouth shut.

Chris reached in to Chef's tray and pulled out a ball of spaghetti, hurling it at Harold while he was gloating. "Suck that 'ghetti back you lovable underdogs, destined to come back from certain failure. We've got a training run." He marched off to God knows where, his one-man-band getup playing along with his footsteps.

"Well…" Beth swallowed a bite of spaghetti. "…what do you think he wants us to do, now?"

"I suppose we better get dressed." Courtney tossed her ball of noodles into a nearby bush with a snide look. "No _way _I'm eating what Chef held in his greasy hands. Who knows where they've been."

I leaned against her trailer, arms folded. As she approached the door, I gave her a lazy smile and a blue-eyed wink. "I could help you get dressed. You know…if you want."

"God, you're so freaking disgusting." She balled up her right hand and socked me in the stomach.

Standing there, growling, I set her up with a harsh glare before stalking away. I pushed my door open and stepped inside. Harold and Justin squeezed past me, already dressed and heading for Chris' new challenge. I just groaned and sat down on my bunk.

"Sucks, huh?" The voice came from above me.

Jumping up, I whirled around, locking eyes with Heather. "Jesus, you freaked me out. What're you doing in here?"

"Doesn't it suck that you're totally in love with someone, and they just think you're weird?" Heather hopped down next to me, gripping my arm. "I have the exact…same…problem," she whispered, inching closer.

I cringed away from her, retreating to the other side of the trailer. "Get out. This is the dudes' trailer."

"C'mon, Duncan," she singsonged, slowly walking in my direction.

"Seriously, get out!" I boomed. "It's not gonna happen! _Ever_! Leave me alone."

She pouted. "But _Duncan. _I want you to kiss me. I wanna be your girl."

Not feeling bad for her at all – who could _ever _feel bad for _Heather_? – I let my features spread into a look of disgust. She seemed shocked by my reaction. "Ew, _God._" I grabbed my clothes from my dresser drawer and bolted out of the trailer, wrenching away when she tried to grab my arm again.

* * *

I changed in a bathroom stall, wondering why Heather was acting so loony-toons. It's like she'd become obsessed with me within the past day. Had she been into me all along?

"Duncan!"

Chris' shout came from the bathroom doorway. "Get your sorry ass out to the playing field! You've got laps to run!"

"Oh, bite me, you schmuck." I kicked the stall open and bared my teeth at him. "I'll get there when I get there."

"Aaactually…" He prolonged the word, following me out of the communal bathroom. "…you'll get there when my _contract _wants you there."

"Oh, go frick yourself."

* * *

He basically shoved me all the way over to the playing field, pushing me into my team. I helped very little with getting me there. He was panting like a dog once he got into his chair, overseeing us all like the King of Schmucks. "Now, to warm up, you guys have to run three laps around the entire studio."

"_What_?" Princess shrieked. "You can't expect us to–"

"You _were _just going to run three laps around the football field, but _Duncan _over there decided I should frick myself. So his punishment is _your _punishment. Enjoy!" Everyone groaned and shouted. I sniffed indifferently – I really couldn't care less, to be honest.

"Way to go, Duncan," Harold growled.

Lindsay stamped her boot. "I'm totally gonna get stains in the pits of my blouse because of you!"

Someone came up quickly on my right. "You just couldn't keep your _big, fat mouth shut_, could you?" Courtney hissed, her voice filled with hatred.

I'm not even going to _tell _you how much that stung. I just held my chin up high and glowered down at her. "Well he _should _go frick himself. Look at him! Just look at his hair! Have you ever seen a guy who gets _less_ action?"

Court's eyes went wide. "I hate you."

Chris bolted up from his chair, turning bright red, flailing his arms about willy-nilly like a spaz. "FIVE LAPS AROUND THE STUDIO!"

* * *

So, about an hour later, when everyone had gathered on the field, back from our run in which all castmates but me took breaks, we all collapsed on the ground and gasped for breath.

"That all you got, sports fans?" Chris called, teasing us all. We'd run around the entire studio five times. He probably couldn't even run around the whole studio _halfway._ "Man up! It's time for more action."

I chuckled, him fixing me with a look of hate.

Leshawna panted. "Three cups of spaghetti followed by a three k jog." Okay…I was sure that it was way more than three k, but whatever. She's tired. "All I'm ready for is a nap." Nestling into the grass, she opened her eyes and started pulling at it. "Wha-what is this? Plastic lawn?"

"Astro-turf," Chris corrected like she was dumb. "_Hello_? It's a set. Today's competition is gonna require sweat, guts, heart and sweat."

Heather pulled her dreamy look away from me and glared at Chris. Bleh. I feel sick. "You said sweat twice."

"That's 'cuz it's not just yer sweat you'll be dealing with. There's Chef's sweat, too! 'Cuz you'll be pushing him the length of the field. _And_, he just ate a _huuuge _jar of jalapeño peppers, so, he's spraying like a gym class shower!"

Justin scratched his tan head. "We gotta push spiced-up Chef like he's a football dummy?"

"Don't call me a dummy," Chef warned.

Heather held up her hands as if to say, _stop this bullcrap right now. _"Uh, I am _not _swapping sweat with an oversized jalapeño."

"You're taking it for the team." Leshawna rolled her head around, put her hands on her hips and started squawking at Heather. "Now getchyo skinny behind out there and push that dummy!"

"What'd I say about the dummy thing?" Chef's brow wrinkled in anger.

"You can do this one without me." Heather turned away from the other girl on our team, flipping her red wig.

I'd had enough with Heather's attitude. She can crush on me all she wants, but no way is she getting out of challenges because I rejected her. Or…maybe that's just my ego talking. "Gotta side with Leshawna on this one," I said clearly, everyone's head snapping back at me. "You're doing it."

Heather and I exchanged evil scowls, but she finally sighed. "Fine. I'm just gonna need a _really _long shower afterwards."

We all got into position, ready to charge into the football tackling dummy Chef was holding out in front of him. Chris blew his whistle, and we started shoving.

"That all ya got?" Chef shouted, a wicked smile on his face. "I can push better than that on my day off!"

"Don't you talk smack to _me_," Leshawna snapped. And, just like a chick version of the Incredible Hulk – except without the green skin and clothes ripping apart and flying everywhere – she grunted and pushed her hands out in front of her, sending Chef and the tackling dummy shooting to the other side of the field.

Leshawna straightened out her shirt and smoothed down her hair, sashaying over to Chef, who was on the ground under the dummy. "Sorry, dummy. Looks like I came to play hardball."

Heather, Harold and I were still wide-eyed and amazed. Leshawna turned back to us and cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You go, Leshawna." I gave her an appropriate fist-bump, while Harold flung himself at her in a hug, and Heather stood awkwardly away from us.

"Ladies, if you're done congratulating your leader," Chris snapped at us, "get over there and do the next obstacle!"

"God," I mumbled as we got down on our hands and knees to do another course, "I hate him." I crawled through a pit of mud, under a big chain of barbed wire.

Leshawna followed me. "Me too, but ya don't see _me _runnin' my mouth off to him. I'm smarter than that."

I grunted, though she was right. I really have to think before I spurt insults and tell people above me off.

"I have _never_ seen our school football team doing _this,_" Courtney complained from behind me.

I craned my neck to see how far I'd gone, but my nostrils flared when I noticed Harold was behind Courtney, marveling at her butt. "Hey–" I tried to shout, but Leshawna pushed me forward.

"Keep _goin' _Danger Boy."

Chris was responding to what Courtney'd said. "You're right, but we had some modem barbed wire left over from the war movie, and it just seemed fun to me." Man, I wanna ring his neck. "Is it?"

We all groaned. Leave it to Chris to think up something we don't have to do to make it enjoyable for him. He pulled a megaphone out of his pants and leaned forward from his laid-back stance against a pole, shouting at us to move faster and telling us we were a bunch of sissies. When we crawled out of the pit, he commanded us to run to the other side of the football field.

I got to the end first, folding my arms when I saw a cameraman in the bushes. Aiming right at me, he panned up my clothes, all covered in mud and dirt and grass. I tried to ignore Bob, or whatever his name is. _Billy_? "Well that truly bit," I announced. A couple people grunted in agreement behind me, finally back there.

"Who _won _anyway?" Courtney asked.

I heard myself swallow. Her voice was really close, right behind me. Why would she want to stand behind me if she was mad? Maybe she's not anymore? I wish I had, like, a Chicktionary, so I could figure out what her tone, body language, standing choices and looks meant. If I had one, I'd crack it open and it'd say, _If your girl chooses to stand right behind you, be careful. She's still too upset to stand right next to you, but she's not mad enough to stand in front of you, to avoid looking at you at all. She may want to make up within the next few days, or she may just be staring at your bottom._

A smirk slithered across my face. Well…Courtney might not even say _one word _to me until a week from now – unless they're words of hatred or she's telling me off. But I _do _have a pretty nice butt, if I do say so myself. Who _wouldn't _wanna stare at that? But… I turned a little to my right while Chris was talking, pretending to take in the damage of my Converse. They were pretty bad, but I was actually checking out Courtney in my peripherals. She had her lip curled at Chris, so I turned my attention back to the ass, trying to catch up on what he'd said.

"…with competitors seated according to these results." He gestured up to a screen with pictures of us all rearranging.

"Seeded?" Lindsay grinned, showing off her perfectly whitened teeth. "There's a gardening challenge?" She tilted her head to think on, me just rolling my eyes.

"Alright, people, disperse!" Chris waved his hands ever-so gay-like. "Go change – you all reek. Chef will pop by your trailers in twenty to take you to the next challenge!"

I twirled my pointer finger. "Oh joy."

* * *

Everyone dispersed, as Chris had wanted us to, most heading to the showers. I didn't think I'd bother with one because I'd just end up getting dirty again, anyways. It is a _sports_ theme today. So I changed, waiting for Justin and Harold to leave to go get pretty so I could sit on the steps without being interrupted – until they got back – to think. What I _hadn't _thought about before sitting down, was that Lindsay and Beth had left for the showers but Courtney hadn't. The girls' trailer door swooped open and Courtney stepped out with a towel on her arm, about to leave.

I probably should've left her alone, to give her some more time to cool off, but I opened my big fat mouth…again. "Hey, babe," I called smoothly, watching her pass. "Whatcha doin' later?"

Jaw clenching, she didn't answer, just kept stalking away.

I bit my lip behind her back. "Wait," I called, catching up to her, giving up my cool seat on the steps. She kept her narrowed gaze straight ahead. "I wanted to talk to you," I mumbled.

"Oh, gee," she faux-gushed, still not looking at me, "the mighty, tough, macho Duncan wants to talk! I should drop everything I'm doing and listen to him barely try to act like a human being."

I stared at her, keeping pace. "C'mon, everyone's in the shower. I didn't have any other time to talk to you, today."

She stopped abruptly, fixing me with a glare. "Fine. You've got fifteen seconds."

I regained my balance from spinning around quickly and started talking. "First of all, I never meant to kiss Heather. She's foul and gross and evil and I hate her. She has this huge crush on me and won't leave me alone. She was standing outside the washroom and I thought she was you because it was dark and I thought you and I'd been the only people around. I knew it was her after a second and tried to pull away but she wouldn't let me go, and then when she did you were standing there with big, onyx eyes and I'm really, really sorry."

Courtney held up her hand to signal that my fifteen seconds were up. "Wow, what a nice, sob story. I still don't buy it."

"Jesus, you _gotta _know I thought it was you!" I whined. "You'd called my name, then when Heather lunged at me, I thought–"

"I don't want to hear it," Courtney singsonged, walking away from me yet again.

"But, Princess–"

She just kept walking.

How am I supposed to make her believe me? I actually thought my story was pretty damn convincing. The whole thing's true, which is probably why _I _think it's convincing. It's just not doing it for Courtney though. Because she's stubborn and nobody else can ever be right, right? I cupped my hands around my mouth. "BITCH," I shouted.

Her towel dropped from the crook of her arm and she spun around too fast for me to even see.

"Oh, shit."

"_What'd _you just say?" she demanded.

I stood there, limp, staring at her for a few long seconds before bolting into my trailer and locking the door. I leaned with all my weight against the door until Justin and Harold came back ten minutes later, afraid Courtney would kick it down and kill me if I just went about my business.

* * *

**Sorry if there are any mistakes. XD**


End file.
